Christmas Drama
by Sideshow Cellophane 26
Summary: A certain host (yes, Chris Mclean) is visited by the three Warners of Past, Present, and Future. What will they show him? Will he actually change his sadistic ways . . ? Nah, probably not. But feel free to watch for your own amusement. Rated T for totally destroying the fourth wall in a violent action. Don't own Animaniacs or Total Drama, don't wanna deal with the characters 24/7!
1. Prologue - Getting Started!

**Not Simpsons this year, folks. Started in early November, this is the first crossover of Animaniacs and Total Drama I've ever written. Tell me whatcha think!**

**I own nothing, blah blah blah . . . . All characters go to their rightful owners, and if you haven't seen either one of these shows it is highly recommended you see at least three episodes of each before continuing on into the danger zone. Rated T for not only raping the fourth wall, but some language, intern deaths, and a couple of these: "GOODNIGHT, EVERYBODY!"**

**Filmed in America, some parts of Canada for the time zones. Really, you'll just know from certain scenes where we're at.**

* * *

"_Deck the halls with boughs of holly…"_

Chris rolled his eyes, muting the TV. Maybe if he pretended he wasn't home, then they would go away.

"_Fa-la-la-la-la-la-la-la! Tis' the season to be jolly…"_

He sighed, putting in headphones.

"_Fa-la-la-la-la-la-la-la! Don we now our gay apparel…"_

Turned the music all the way up after that.

"_Fa-la-la-la-la-la-la-la! Toll the ancient Yuletide carol…"_

No, even _that_ didn't drone the carolers out. He got up, wrapping the robe tighter around his body. It was what, thirty degrees out? Twenty?

"_Fa-la-la-la-la-la-la-la!"_

He opened the door a crack, as to not let out the heat. There were seven of the trolls this time. They all had on white coats, a couple were light blue or gray, four boys and three girls (counting a little girl that had joined in). Although . . . one of the ones wearing a blue coat was a . . . a giant chicken . . ?

Didn't matter. He, she, it was still making noise.

Despite the look on his face, they paused and continued singing, "_See the fuming man before us, fa-la-la-la-la-la-la-la! Strike the harp and join the chorus, fa-la—"_

"For the love of my agent, leave me alone! Some people are trying to watch themselves on TV in here!" Chris slammed the door in their faces, and went back to his warm, soft bed. Thankfully he had gotten the mail _before_ they came—which was probably how they saw him in the first place, and knew he was home.

The first letter on top of the stack was a surprise: Owen had sent him a Christmas card. It even had a Snowman on the cover, and 'Merry Christmas, From Owen' inside.

How cute. Mostly each year the stack was full of fan letters, but there were usually people to take the useless cards out.

_I'll have to fire someone for this…_

As a matter of fact, the whole stack on his nightstand was from Total Drama related people, like a few of the contestants, a couple of interns he had hospitalized (once again, there were SUPPOSED to be people taking these things out!), a couple from the producers and Chef, and one hate-letter from an intern's family (with several death threats if he didn't pay for the guy's funeral). Chris almost threw this one into the fireplace, but put it back with the others. He had to have proof that _somebody_ wasn't doing their job at the post office.

The others, for now, would have to stay there and be an eye sore. He scanned over the names—Dawn, from season four, Chef (he had used the card as an excuse to remind him of the bet Chris lost), Zoey and Mike shared a card (and all personalities signed except for Mal) which was a shocker, Izzy (whose card only consisted of a hand-drawn horse wearing a Santa hat farting on the cover and a signature on the inside), and several interns practically begging for a higher position on the next season of Total Drama. And his own family members, of course, some of whose cards he didn't mind getting. _Some_.

Total Drama Island's 'Phobia Factor' episode came on right before a call came in from his cell—whoever it was, it wasn't in his contact list and the number didn't ring a bell. But nobody - NOBODY - had his personal number, so . . .

"Yello?" He muted the TV.

"Hello," it was a man's voice, "are you willing to donate—"

"Pass," He jabbed a thumb over the 'end call' option, and continued to punch in a few numbers.

The phone rung a few times, and then a sluggish voice came over, groaning. There were people yelling in the background, and odd beeping noises. "Yeah?"

"Manny, there were spammers in my mail again. Fix it."

"Merry Christmas to you too. Listen man, we're really busy this time of year, and there's been an . . . I don't even know _what_ they are, but some, uh, _things_ are causing some serious trouble around here. Can't you just live with a few spam letters and throw them in the fire? It'll keep the place warm and save me extra work hours. You realize how much friggin' mail _you_ get and _I _have to throw out? A freaking _lot_, Chris. And they've been cutting into my family time, too!"

"You're not getting paid to leave spam letters in my mailbox!"

"Yeah, because hate mail and fan letters are spam to you!"

"Oh? And what about death threats and blackmail?" He eyed the dead intern's family letter.

After a few moments, Manny sighed. "Okay. I'll stay after hours again, if we fix this problem here. _On Christmas Eve_. Hope you're happy, man. You now, someday _somebody'll_ get through to you. As for right now, we have a _serious_ emergency on our hands, and I'd like to know what the hell's goin' on back there."

"Oh, and one more thing—"

The post worker screamed, and a loud crash followed.

"Manny? You there, man?"

"I don't know _why_ you're confusing mine with that horrifyingly scruffy voice, but _I _happen to be the cutest person who's ever lived, whether you see me in person or no!"

Chris held the phone away from him—a little girl had answered. He spoke again, "Uh, where's Manny?"

"You mean Fish-Breath? Oh, Yakko and Wakko are currently washing his mouth out with soap—_he's a potty mouth!_" She whispered on the last part. "As for now, I'm the one who's going to answer all of your questions and needs—besides having this girl in your life. Whaddya need?"

"Uh . . ." What was happening at the post office? "What's your name again?"

"Princess Angelina Contesta Lousia Francesca Hanna Banna Bo Beska the Third. But you can call me Dot. Call me Dottie and you die. What's _your_ name?"

"I'm Chris Mclean." A worker's daughter? Terrorists? Who were these people?

"Mclean? Mclean . . . Nope, never heard of ya."

He frowned. "Chris Mclean, host of the Total Drama series?"

"Uh…"

"I've starred in other stuff too, like my most famous role as Flippey, from—"

"Ooh, aren't you that guy who was in that old boy band Fametown?"

His eye twitched. "Uh…yeah."

"Ooh, oh…! Nope, doesn't ring a bell."

"Okay, whatever," he rolled his eyes—stupid kids. "Dot, I would like to speak to Manny, or Fish-Breath, or whatever you call him."

She sighed, "I _told_ you, Yakko and Wakko are bonking him on the head every time he says a bad word!"

He blinked, "You told me they were washing his mouth out with soap."

"But I just told you _now_ that they were bonking him on the head."

_Bonking him on the head? _

Were they _beating_ Manny?! "C-c-can I interrupt Yakko and Wakko and t-talk to my mail sorter?"

"Mail sorter?" She started laughing, "Honey, throw whatever you don't want in the fireplace! It'll be better than getting deeper into this skit and wasting the readers' time."

"Skit?"

"Yes skit, meaning a humorous story or sketch."

"I know what it means!" He snapped, "You're saying that I'm on TV right now? Like _Pranked?_" He looked around the room, for any hidden cameras, and wrapped the robe tighter around his body.

"Attitude, it's Christmas Eve! No, you're just a character in a soon-to-be ridiculously long parody-of-a-parody story. Like fan-fiction, or _Saturday Night Live_."

"You're not making any sense, who are you and what are you doing at the post office?!"

"Don't talk to my sister that way, you Plotz stand-in!" A boy's voice came over the phone now, "We're not making anything."

"We're standing over this phone and talking to you," Another boy's voice joined in, with a slight British accent. He sort of sounded like Ringo, from the Beatles.

"And," Dot finished, "we were offering to help the workers here for a Christmas break, but they were all potty mouths about it!"

"Now then," the first boy's voice came over, "what were you saying right before your fish-breath friend was taken off the phone?"

Without even thinking, he answered, "I was complaining about somebody blackmailing me . . . I think I'm just going up hang up now." He hung up and threw the phone across the room, going into a more thorough search for cameras. This _had_ to be some sort of prank. Was it one of those prank shows, an enemy, old intern . . ?

The doorbell rang, and more carolers began to sing to the theme of 'Noel,' "_If you want to get help for your blackmailing issue, just be nice to everyone, it's easy to do! Oh well, oh well. Oh well, oh well. Deal with your own problems and leave us out too!"_

He stopped, mulling the whole situation over. If this _were_ a show, then the cameras would be right outside the front door, ready to capture his reaction. Even if it wasn't then it would be a good idea to have pants on…

Quickly slipping into some "nonchalant" black dress pants and a white button-down shirt, Chris pulled open the door, laughing. "Okay, you got m—" He gasped, taking a step back.

"HELLO!" Three . . . puppy/monkey children, or whatever they were, were standing right on his front doorstep.

In the background SideshowCellophane26 was holding up a _signed_ contract, her arms crossed and eyebrow raised. (**I, SideshowCellophane26, agree not to abuse my directing position by making a mess out of this year's Christmas story. If that happens, I will most likely laugh at the whole thing…but will apologize later.)**

He glared at her, but turned back to the children. "Wh-who are you?"

The boys said, "We're the Warner brothers!"

"And the Warner sister!" Dot chimed in.

"I'm Yakko!" He jumped onto Chris' shoulder…

"I'm Wakko!" He jumped onto Chris' other shoulder…

"And _I'm_ the girl of your dreams, cutie!" Dot jumped into his arms, and all three kissed him on the face with an exaggerated smooching noise.

"_Blegh!_ Ugh, _what_ are you?!"

"Cute?" Yakko guessed.

"Hungry?" Wakko patted his belly, tongue hanging out of his mouth.

"Infested with fleas?" Dot suggested.

"We came here," Yakko continued, "to remind you that you didn't wish us a very Merry Christmas. Or to your potty-mouth friend. Also because, ah," He took the contract from SideshowCellophane26, and flipped through it until finding the passage. He read, "You are to…_partake in the parody of Animanaics' "A Christmas Plotz," a parody of 'A Christmas Carol,' under oath that you will not break the following rules…_blah blah blah, seven pages of boringness…ah, here we go! It says here we're supposed to be the three ghosts that show you the error of your ways."

Wakko looked at SideshowCellophane26, frowning. "What happened to the first ghost that's supposed to warn him about these other ghosts?"

She shrugged. "Nobody would take the part, so he was _supposed_ to open a letter that just _told_ him he was going to be visited…but he _burnt_ it before production started!"

"Why can't you make a new one?" Chris asked, still balancing the Warners on his person.

"This is an online story, we don't _have_ paper! Just move on, and Warners: _follow the script!_ The post office is threatening a lawsuit now!"

"Sorry," They all said in unison.

"Positions, everybody! Just take it from Chris watching TV, and then Wakko appears. We've already wasted enough time, let's move! I've gotta go sort things out with the office."

"Should I pretend like I've already read the ghostly letter?"

"Please do, but feel free to keep those clothes on, you look nice in them. Now, places!"

"Oh, wait!" He dropped the Warners, coming up to the author of this story. "If I make a few calls, could you make room for this ghost? It'll get me outta a debt and put your story under Celebrity Manhunt's radar."

"Um…Okay . . ."

"And then we'll take it from me opening the letters. Trust me, it's a good idea!"

* * *

Chris opened Chef's letter, and then the door slammed against the wall.

. . . And then _Blaineley_ emerged into the room, wearing white make-up, white dress, and Styrofoam chains hanging from her wrists. She grumbled, holding a script in her hand. "Okay, what am I doing here?"

"That's a good question, actually."

"You texted me?" She held up a phone, "You called my agent with a role description for a popular story parody?"

Poorly stifling laughter, he said, "Oh, did I call _your_ agent?" More laughter, "I'm sorry, I meant to call Chef's!"

She tightened her fists, narrowing her eyes.

"What? All agents sound alike over the phones. Okay, okay, you'll work in this too, since you're already here. Just say the lines, we're doing it right now."

"Seriously? It's Christmas Eve! Ugh, whatever," She rolled her eyes, and read from the script, "Tonight you will be visited by three ghosts."

"But why?!" He muttered on a side note, "At least _I_ memorized my lines."

"I heard that, wash-up! Uh," she flipped through the script, "because you . . . I'm sorry, I can't even _see_ this! Are these _coffee_ stains? On _my_ script?!"

"Keep going, it's a T-Rated fic for some language and mentioning character deaths and there are _readers out there right now_…"

"The point is you'll be visited by three ghosts! There, I said it! Now where's my—"

"HELLO-O-O-O GHOST NURSE!"

Yakko and Wakko came into the picture, and jumped into Blaineley's arms.

She dropped them, growling on her way outside. "I refuse to do anything else until I get my three hundred dollars! And for God's sake, _somebody fire my agent!_ I'm _done _with stupid cameos!"

* * *

**Due to technical difficulties (thanks, BLAINELEY), we will return with the next chapter next week! Stay tuned to find out if Blaineley-**

**"Hey, Sideshow!" Blaineley said, "I want my money five minutes ago. I've gotta be back in Canada for family by tomorrow, and for God's SAKE get these two runts off me!"**

**She held up her leg, pointing down to Yakko and Wakko, who clung on. **

**Yakko said, "But if you stay you can open MY mail for me!"**

**Sideshow blew a kiss into the audience and said, "GOODNIGHT, EVERYBODY!"**


	2. The Ghost of Christmas Past

After everything was done and Blaineley was paid, Chris scoffed. "Three ghosts my butt!" He un-muted the Total Drama episode and sat back on the bed.

He readied to take a sip of the mug of hot chocolate (that just suddenly appeared in this story) when Wakko jumped out of it, giving him a hug. "Hiya, Chris!"

"AH!" He jumped back as Wakko came out onto the bed, the hot chocolate gone as suddenly as it appeared. "Who are you?!"

He snapped his fingers, and background music started to play. After a few seconds, he began to sing, "_I'm the ghost of Christmas past, and all the teens you've harassed! It's time for the movie sta-a-ar to see stuff, from long ago!"_ The music ended, and his tongue hung out of his mouth in a grin. "What? You thought I'd sing the _whole_ thing? Readers skip that stuff, you know," He elbowed Chris, who had crossed his arms. "And I'm about to sing another one!"

"What do you want?"

"I want YOU!" He kissed him full on the lips, and took the remote while Chris wiped his mouth in disgust. "_I'm the ghost of Christmas past and all the folks that you've harassed, be glad I'm here at last cause Mr. Chris Mclean it's movie time so relax and see we'll take a look at your family tree and see how you used to be many years ago!"_ He ended the song with another kiss, and sat back with popcorn between the two bodies and remote in the opposite hand. "Sit back and have some popcorn, it's movie time!"

"Only if you promise not to kiss me again!"

"Aw, but you taste like hot chocolate…deal!"

Slowly, he sat back, eying Wakko as he turned the TV to a different screen with a few clicks of the remote. It showed a young boy pulling up chairs and his younger sister's stuffed animals (along with his sister) in front of an old video camera.

"Well," he shrugged, "what am I seeing?"

"You, when you were seven! Don't you recognize it?"

He squinted his eyes for a moment before breaking into a grin. *"My best childhood memory!"

On screen, the young boy said, "_Ladies and gentlemen! I am proud to announce the first viewing of 'The Chris Mclean Four-Hour Talent Experience!' Starring: me!"_

_The younger girl in front had her head in her hand, eyes already glossy. _

"_Kids?" A woman called down from upstairs, "What are you doing?"_

"_Hosting!" Chris answered, and went on to juggle two butter knives and a plastic spoon for the first act. He then asked for a volunteer, when the little girl raised the hand of a stuffed rabbit. "Susan! I'm so ever glad you would be so kind as to volunteer yourself!"_

"_But I don't wanna!" She whined, "You woke me up during my naptime!"_

"_Then drink coffee, we have three hours fifty-five minutes to go before I run out of lines and talents—" he smiled at the camera, "that I will allow my loving fans to see. Everyone give Susie here a hand!" He clapped slowly as she got up sluggishly, slouching all the way to the imaginary stage. "Now all I need you to do is stand here, completely still, while I throw these knives at you. Stand against the wall, like that, yeah. Now . . ." he took one out of seven knives, aiming it at the tired kindergartener. "Hold steady."_

"_I'm tired!"_

_Just as she spoke, startling him, he had thrown the knife not into the wall next to her body as planned, but . . . had literally just missed her neck by the necklace string on the girl the knife hit._

_Both stood there, stunned, before he grinned and grabbed another one. "I'm good, aren't I?"_

Wakko pressed the skip button on the remote, turning to him. "You were mean from the start, torturing your poor sister like that. Remember when you were nine, and your mom took you for your first cat food commercial?"

"How do you know all of this stuff about me?!" He crossed his arms, glaring at the screen. "Better yet, how did you get all of this on film? Not cool, you little stalker!"

"This next one's sort of short, if that helps."

"_C'MON, people!" An older woman stomped onto a real stage, dragging by the arm a slightly older Chris. There were cat food signs in the background, and actual cats were crawling around everywhere. She let go of the boy's arm, going up to the director. "Are you seriously going to let these animals waltz around everywhere, with everyone trying to get to the places they're supposed to be? I almost tripped over one!"_

"_Mrs. Mclean," The director rubbed the bridge of his nose, sighing. "They're SUPPOSED to be free to roam, it's a part of the deal we made with the pet adoption company they're from."_

_She let go of the boy's arm to argue with him further upon this subject; Chris took full advantage of this to walk over to a nearby bench, scanning over the script._

_He tripped over a black cat with urine-colored eyes, hitting his head against the bench corner and passing out._

"Ouch," Wakko winced, taking a look at the current Chris beside him.

"Not my best moment, yeah…I remember I woke up about an hour later…"

_While all of the adults argued and fussed over his head, he saw an extra come running with a first-aid kit, trip over another cat, and fall face first flat on the floor. __Everybody went silent—the only sound being Chris' laughter._

"You didn't have any sadistic feelings up until this point, we think."

"You _think?_ Dude, how much stuff do you know about me?"

"Enough," He grinned, and, with a snap of his fingers, all traces of his being there were gone.

Chris was alone in the room. He looked around, going so far as to get up before someone rang the doorbell. "It had better not be any more surprise cameos…"

* * *

Having heard this, Sideshow pointed to Cody, shaking her head. She whispered, "No cameo! Don't go on, we're on a tight schedule to midnight!"

He sighed and walked off-set slouching. "Aw, man. I'll NEVER get a cameo!"

"But we have each other, don't we?" Sierra came up from behind him, and chased after when he started to run away.

"Nah-ah-ah, sister!" Yakko grabbed her arm, dragging her back. "You have a skit in the chapter after next you have to do and you aren't gonna leave us hanging! _Wardrobe!_ Get this girl to a dressing room! And somebody get me a hot drink, I need my voice pitch-perfect by midnight_ exactly!_ Hey, you! Cameraman! Save the camera batteries and get me something for my voice!"

"Yes sir..." The camera was shut off.

* * *

When he opened the bedroom door, a package already sat there. It was red, with a green bow. "Okay, so what's the catch?"

Dot, in her costume, popped out and kissed him. "Me, you cute thing, you!" She hopped out, "I'm the ghost of Christmas Present—it's the pun from the show, get it?"

"Yeah, we _all_ know," He rolled his eyes. "Now sing your song we can move this thing along. No rhyme intended!"

"You know, you're actually supposed to learn something in _real_ life from this. The end of the story is supposed to be us recording the results of showing you these. But anyway," She cleared her throat, and began to sing, "_Now follow me young man, causing pain whenever you can on your Total Drama show! You're guilty in the first degree of causing pain and misery so it is time for you to see so c'mon here we go!_" She grabbed his wrist, swinging him into the box with her.

They fell feet-first onto none other than the Island Wawanakwa.

* * *

***- Gotten from a Wiki page. Also, in the episode 'Broadway Baby!' of Total Drama World Tour, he mentions having a sister. **


	3. The Ghost of Christmas Present

When he opened the bedroom door, a package already sat there. It was red, with a green bow. "Okay, so what's the catch?"

Dot, in her costume, popped out and kissed him. "Me, you cute thing, you!" She hopped out, "I'm the ghost of Christmas Present—it's the pun from the show, get it?"

"Yeah, we _all_ know," He rolled his eyes. "Now sing your song we can move this thing along. No rhyme intended!"

"You know, you're actually supposed to learn something in _real_ life from this. The end of the story is supposed to be us recording the results of showing you these. But anyway," She cleared her throat, and began to sing, "_Now follow me young man, causing pain whenever you can on your Total Drama show! You're guilty in the first degree of causing pain and misery so it is time for you to see so c'mon here we go!_" She grabbed his wrist, swinging him into the box with her.

They fell feet-first onto none other than the Island Wawanakwa.

Chris dusted off his shirt, which was now the regular outfit we see him in on the show. "Hey, this isn't in the script!"

"So? We made a few changes."

He looked around. They were on the sandy beach, a challenge in the process of being set up. "Oh, I can only imagine what you'll do with this one. But I have you on a technicality—this isn't the present, it's my past!"

"True, but Wakko didn't show you this. It had to be bumped off for the four-hour-talent show, and this takes up just about all of _my_ time, meaning _Yakko_ has to do one of _my_ skits."

"So what's the point of being the Ghost of Christmas Present if you don't show me anything from the actual _present?_"

"Yeah, we know. Just go along with it kid, we worked too hard on this whole time-travel thing for you to spoil it with a simple question like, 'Why's the Ghost of Christmas Future showing me a clip from the present?' Oh, you'll get it in the next chapter."

He shrugged. "Okay. Well, show me whatever you want, I've watched all of this several times before."

"But what about _behind_ the scenes?"

He frowned, looking around. "If this is about the whole Larry's-offspring-resembling-me thing, then you have no proof _whatsoever_ that we—"

"Whoa, honey! TMI, keep it at a T-Rated show here! Nobody wants to know about you and an unknown gender mutated plant's life," She pointed a bit farther down the beach, "There, look and be distracted!"

Some of the campers (yes, I know you don't care who so I won't name them) were standing to the side, watching Chris cover a hole with a shovel.

Trent was standing over this hole, reassuring somebody in there she—he realized was Gwen—had enough air to last an hour, and she would be in there for five minutes.

"Why am I watching an episode of TDI?" The current host asked.

"Because this is one of your darker episodes. We would've watched the whole thing, but that would be copyright infringement and time wasting. So, this is the scene we decided on."

"You said these would be off screen though."

"Watch."

"Hey," Trent said. The scene had changed to when Chris was controlling Geoff's hail storm. "You ever feel like you've forgotten something?"

"Yeah," Past host said, "sometimes. I usually ignore them until the feeling goes away." Both current and past host laughed, "Watch this, I'm gonna _bury_ him in hail!"

"Bury?! Aw _crap_, Gwen!"

The scene changed once again, to a couple of interns handing Chris two shovels, as Trent was on his hands and knees digging with his hands. He took one of the shovels, both digging.

"Oh God oh God oh God oh God," Trent repeated himself nine times before the host sighed.

"Dude, chill out. It's only been what? Like, forty minutes?"

"IT'S BEEN TWO HOURS, MCLEAN! IF SHE'S DEAD, YOU'LL HAVE SO MANY LAWYERS ON YOUR BUTT YOU WON'T EVEN KNOW WHAT HIT YOU!"

He grimaced, and dug a bit faster, now significantly more worried about this than before.

"Okay," Present Chris said, "_That_ part was behind the scenes."

About five minutes later, after Cody's trash bomb went off, and after they had to dig two other holes to find the right one, Trent finally got to Gwen. He grinned, "Gwen, you did it!"

She threw her walkie-talkie at his head.

"She's alright!" Chris called out, "She's alright!"

Dot nudged Present Chris' side, and ushered him into the forest.

"What? Where are we going now? Behind the scenes next, the color of her skin was a really cool shade of red. Like she was about ready to kill one of us."

"You _still_ don't see the effects of your actions. It was _you_ who sent that mime out, leaving nobody there to watch Gwen while she was under. That's why she was furious, and-" Something started beeping—she pulled back her sleeve to reveal a watch. "Well, our time here's done." She snapped her fingers, and they were at a graveyard. "Now _here's_ the dark one. We're in the present now. Look around, and tell me what you see."

He took a slow step forward, and another, going up to the first grave marker. "David Currings, 1986 through 2010 . . ."

_. . . . Total Drama World Tour, 'Walk Like An Egyptian.' The skeleton intern I used as a footstool._

"There are more, honey," She spoke softly. "Oh, by the way. The third ghost'll be here on the first stroke of midnight. You have a couple minutes here to see everything."

His heart sunk, and eyes trailed to the next marker.

Another dead intern. And another after that. And another after that.

"Is this for real? None of this is in the script . . !" He turned around; Dot wasn't there. "I know that a lot of them have been hurt, starved, eaten, mutated . . . Er, I mean, I know a lot of em' have been tortured mentally and physically, but there hasn't been anything about deaths-" He stopped. All of that hate mail he had asked Manny to destroy, all of the fan-letters . . .

An old couple now walked up to David's grave. Both had grim faces—not of sorrow, but hatred, determination. The woman held with her a single flower, which she placed upon the ground in front of it.

She sighed, bowing her head. "The yard's grown since our last visit."

"They aren't _all_ from the show, love. It's a regular graveyard."

"But they were all buried _here!_ Mclean hired them from _this town_, they were buried in _this_ yard!"

_They don't even realize I'm here._

"It wasn't just him," The intern's father (obviously, from their apparent ages) wrapped an arm around her shoulder. "You know it wasn't just him."

"But he used him as a _footstool_ and—"

"No. Just . . . no. It's Christmas Eve, darling, let's leave. Let's just go. David will always be in our hearts, forever and always. One day, karma _will_ catch up to Chris. Whether it be on the show, by another enemy's hands, his own passing over…it _will_ come one day."

Chris didn't wait to see them anymore, hear any of that. None of this was in the script (**in the script** **we provided for him at the time of before this started…Guess he didn't get the new one. Oops.)**,and the mood of the story had changed drastically.

"I gotta get outta here before the third ghost comes!"

All too late, a clock rung midnight, the chimes echoing all around him.


	4. The Ghost of Christmas Yet-to-Come!

**First off folks: please read the parts where they sing. Do you realize how many times I had to watch Yakko's song over and OVER and **_**OVER AGAIN?!**_** A LOT of times…...Okay, maybe not as many times as to promote that I have nothing better to do with my life, but I've watched the whole episode more than I wanted to.**

**Yakko: "Aw, don't tell me you didn't love it!"**

**Me: ". . . A FREAKIN' **_**LOT**_** of rewinds, all for YOUR freakin' skit, man."**

"**Well then—**_**relax, chill out, forget about your**_**—"**

"**NO!" *Runs away screaming***

**He grinned at the screen, "Hiya folks! Hope you guys enjoy our longest segment as of **_**yet!**_** It has singing, dancing, parasites, and a couple of Mike's personalities! And, if ya **_**don't**_** know who our favorite little Schizophrenic is," he cleared his throat, took in a deep breath, and paused dramatically… "…Google it. He has Multiple Personality Disorder, and that ain't no secret! So, sit back and take about five minutes to read! Pee if you must, but do it now so we won't have to wait for ya." He crossed his arms, frowning. "Pft. **_**I**_** don't get to pee after starting the chapter."**

* * *

All too late, a clock rung midnight, the chimes echoing all around him. Up from David's grave came a cloaked shadow, carrying with him the Grim Reaper's scythe. In the blink of an eye, Chris found that its bony finger was pointed right in his face.

"_Chris Mclean_ . . ." The voice was a hoarse whisper, until . . . Yakko pulled back the hood, coughing. "Do you have any cough drops? No? Nevermind, I think I'm good now."

"Dude, not cool! You almost gave me a heart attack!"

He ignored him, instead taking off the cloak to reveal a blue tuxedo Broadway suit and top hat. He put the cloak over Chris and then ripped it off, leaving on the outfit he wore during _Total Drama Action's_ voting ceremonies (really, they were the same suits).

"I'm your Ghost of Christmas-Yet-to-Come tonight, so…" he snapped his fingers, and the whole scene went black. He began to sing (and yes, you have to read this. No skipping, you lazy readers!) "_Relax, chill out, forget about your cares!"_ He said on a sidenote to the cameras, "This is a man who knows what he wants! He's also a man no one wants!"

"HEY!"

"_C'mon, it's time for you to climb these stairs!"_ Golden stairs were illuminated now, the highest being the ones they stepped on. "You got a good head on your shoulders, Chris. Too bad you haven't got a conscience! _Show em' what you can do!"_

"I never agreed to do this in the contracts! . . ." He pulled out a rather large packet, scanning through it. "Hey, this isn't even _IN_ my contract!"

"_The future's still waitin' for you!" _Yakko pulled it out of his hands and threw it elsewhere.

"Leave me alone, you . . . what-what _are_ you?"

"_C'mon Chris, cause you've got lots to see before we're through!"_

The side of the staircase lighted up, revealing all of the girl contestants from the series dressed as showgirls. Except for Stacy, Jo, and Eva—who were not there to give you that image in the first place—and Blaineley. Sierra was just standing there recording the whole thing—SOMEBODY STOP HER, THAT'S PIRATING IF SHE POSTS THAT ON HER STINKING BLOG BEFORE WE POST THIS!

Oh, and then Mike—er, Svetlana, was between Zoey and Izzy.

"Wow," Chris remarked, "you guys really _will_ do anything for money, won't you?"

"Shut up, dead man," Heather snapped.

"Not Svetlana!" He/she exclaimed. "I do zis for za WIN!"

Yakko whispered to Chris, "It was _technically_ supposed to be all girls, but we weren't exactly sure about this one when he/she showed up at dress rehearsal wearing the outfit . . . Don't even know how he—she?—_they_ got it…So what the heck!"

They all sang, "_He's no dream, here us scream his name . . . CHRIS! Had no fun, and he's the one to blame!"_

"Helo-o-o nurses!" Yakko went up to Lindsey, "Say, why don't you stop by my dressing room after the show and I'll show you my stamp collection?"

"What's a stamp collection?"

He deadpanned, raising an eyebrow to the screen.

They continued, "_There's nothing he can't do!"_

"They're crazy about me!_"_

"_He's handsome, yes it is true!"_

"Paid em' to say that just to spite you!"

"And happily!" Heather smirked.

The host growled.

"_So c'mon Chris cause we've got lots to. See. Before. We're . . ."_

"You know what I like about you Chris?" They were at the top of the staircase now, empty darkness below. "Plotz has almost _nothing_ on you, and _that's_ an accomplishment right there!"

He kicked him off the stairs as everyone else sang the final word: "_THROUGH!"_

Sierra stopped recording and _almost_ sent the video out to her blog…before Wakko grabbed and ate it.

Gasping, she fell to her knees. "NO-HO-HO-O-O-O!"

Dot came into the picture, crossing her arms. "Why are you still here? Can somebody get her off set already?! _Security!_"

* * *

They both landed in a lavish office, sitting in two chairs in the corner. The room boasted of power, something that only a well-off producer could claim as his own. There was a gigantic flat screen on one wall, a bookshelf full of various books, CDs, movies, and other assorted business items that took up the whole of the wall. An aloe plant was in one corner, and a desk with three chairs (and three men sitting in them) sat opposite the TV, with a window behind them, showing the studio.

"First off: welcome to your future," Yakko was chewing on popcorn, sitting back. "I will also be showing you one other clip from your present later on."

"Alright, I'll bite," Chris sighed, "Let me guess: the producers to Total Drama's office? It's changed a bit."

Confetti rained down on them as music played. "Congratulations! You win the grand prize of _one_. _Bi-i-i-ig_ . . . IOU letter," He handed the host a slip of paper with 'IOU' written out in capital letters, the music and confetti gone. "Feel free to cash it in at any point during the show, though it expires right after this sketch. There's always a catch, am I right?"

"Yeah, you gave me the wrong script!"

"No: we gave you the right script _before_ the new one was given out that day you weren't there."

"Which was _two days_ ago!"

"Correct." He threw a handful of popcorn into his mouth. "And then we ditched that new script, but I think the author likes it better this way. Either that, or she's having a heart attack somewhere off-screen."

* * *

Elsewhere, a camera zoomed in on Sideshow, who was busy yelling at an intern from the original show (as all of these extras were interns from the show). "_Do you even realize how HARD it is, directing these freaks?! _And now they aren't even following a script! And you know what? I am TIRED of telling the Warners to stop bouncing on Owen's belly! If he wants em' off, he needs to get them off himself!"

"Ma'am, please calm down and don't hit me," He quivered a little, "We can't control em,' animal control can't control em,' _no one_ can control em!'"

"Well, find . . ." Her face lit up, and she gasped. "Ooh! Find Elmyra! Or that weird guy who won't shut up!"

"NO! I've dealt with enough crazy people and these stupid crossovers, no more!" He stormed out, and yelled over his shoulder, "You'll have my therapy bill in the morning!"

* * *

Back to Chris, "So why wasn't I told about this?"

"You said not to bother you until the production really started. Which was today."

"But—" He did a double take at one of the producers, whom he had thought to be a man with a passing glance: Courtney. And then Alejandro sitting right next to her. Both of them were very well dressed, Courtney's hair pulled back into a bun for a more dramatic and mature effect.

"What are _they_ doing here?!"

"Yep. After the last season (two seasons ahead of your time), _her_ lawyers did a tango on your producers' faces because of the way you treated her in particular. So, here she is…after an," he did air quotes, "_accidental heart attack_ from one of those producers. _Al's _here because he _worked_ his way up to the top, starting as your personal assistant. You fired him, which made the guy set on doing better than a lowly intern—only one year after that, here he is. And then that other guy's just a newbie that you don't need to worry about."

"He sorta looks like one of my interns…"

"No he doesn't. You're just imagining things."

"But he—"

"Nope."

"Okay—and _how_ far into the future are we?"

He shrugged. "I dunno, sometime after your next two seasons. Production for the next one starts about a year or so from our original time, during the summer, so we're about two years ahead."

An intercom buzzed, and Noah's voice came over the line. "Your eleven o'clock's arrived."

Courtney sighed and answered, "Send him in. You have security cameras on in here? We want to record this moment."

"Yeah…Yeah. You know he can hear us, right? He's standing right here, the intercom's pretty loud…"

Alejandro and the other producer/intern person, Josh by name, glared at her.

She giggled nervously, and turned off the buzzer. "Oh, and Josh? Let Alejandro and I do the talking."

Her partner in crime nodded. "We've been waiting for this moment since our first encounter with him."

And then future Chris walked in, his arms crossed and back straight, glaring at Courtney in general. "The _hell_, you can't do this to my show!"

"Good morning to you too," She had a cocky smile on, "Did you even _get_ the ratings for your last season? Total Drama's down a hole, and your name's going down with it," She shrugged.

"We have no choice, mi amigo," Alejandro said. "It's not only for your own sake—you'll be a washed-up reality TV star if you don't quit now—but for the _island's_. If the series quits now, then the government's gonna bomb Boney Island, and all of your toxic waste creations. Including your beloved Larry, Laurie, whatever the heck that overgrown plant's gender is. And your _offspring_, you sick freak of nature."

Present Chris winced at that—in reality, nothing like that happened. It was _asexual reproduction_—Larry copied his DNA from a hug or touch, or something, and viola—mutated plant babies everywhere.

"_Oh_, you'd _love_ to see that, wouldn't you?" Future Chris had his hands in fists at his sides, glaring daggers.

"Yes," Both of them said simultaneously.

"And," Courtney straightened a few files on her desk, "we take great pleasure in telling you, Chris Mclean, that you are stepping down from your position on the show."

"You are being replaced by Mildred 'Blaineley' O'Halloran," Alejandro finished, "and Owen, your now _ex_ personal assistant."

"But—"

"The paperwork is already done. All we need is your signature right here," He took the files from Courtney, standing up and holding them out to the soon-to-be former host.

"Ha! And if I refuse to sign these?" He raised a brow. "You've already screwed up Total Drama, and now you're going to take _me_ away? The only reason why people watch the show is because of _me!_"

"Nah-ah-ah," Courtney smiled, standing up, "It stated, in the fine print in your renewed contract you signed for this season, that if you are asked to stand down by us, then you are to do so. I believe Section 4, Paragraph C. You have no choice in the matter. You either quit the show Mclean, or face lawsuit."

Reluctantly, he sighed and took the new contract, sitting down. "Crap."

"Crap is right," Alejandro stated. "You're the one who dug yourself into that whole mess, Chris. Now sign the paper, it's almost our lunch break."

In distraught silence, he slowly (and all too painfully) took a pen, signing right above Blaineley's signature. His shoulders and head dropped as he handed the contract over.

"Thank you," Courtney grinned. "Now get out, it's lunch time. And Merry Christmas!"

Yakko followed Present Chris to the doorway, watching his future self sulk outside. "But it can't end like this!" He gasped when the future self walked right through him, out the door.

"Cheer up, at least they saved you before you became another washed-up TV star. God knows we have enough of the leeches nowadays..."

The two producers had burst out laughing when he opened the door, and left. They high-fived, and all three followed out the door for lunch after giggling about how "incredible it felt!"

"But what'll happen to me now?" He went over to the window, and watched as the other self got inside his car and drove away. "How can I stop them from doing this to me?" He turned around.

Yakko wasn't there.

"Seriously?! The ONE thing from _my_ script he follows! Okay, I get it. Everybody who's starred in this over-played show gets it: I'm supposed to change my ways and become a better person! Is that what you people want? Well, fine! I'll give Chef the money from our bet tomorrow—Christmas Day. _My_ Christmas day, that is. Don't even know why he needs so soon, anyway!"

"Dude," Yakko came up behind him, a toilet flushing in the background. "Chill out, we still have one last stop to make."

"O-oh. I thought this was the part when you disappear and I get back to the present."

"Ha! You wish, buddy! C'mon," He grabbed his hand, and they went through the exit—only instead of a waiting room, it was a bar. "Now, we're back in our own time. Yeah, Dot ran outta time before this part. Don't ask. But this is an essential part of your night, so…" He pointed to a table, where Chef and another man Chris couldn't see the face of, who was wearing a black fedora hat and coat, were sitting. And then the finger started to follow a Hello-Nurse looking waitress as his eyes turned into hearts. "You go over there. I'll be the Ghost of Christmas Yet-to-Come over here with _her_."

"She won't be able to see you, you know that, right?"

"A guy can stare and dream, can't he?"

Rolling his eyes, he walked over just in time to hear the seemingly most important piece of their conversation.

Chef was saying, "Listen man, I'll have the money when I get it. I _need_ these meds though, I only have the four pills left."

_Chef . . . is a junkie?!_

"—That'll last me through tomorrow _tops_, and then…" He ran a thumb across the neck. The international sign of death.

The shady man sighed. "You have no idea how much you owe me, Chef—the hospital could fire me for this, you know. I'd lose my whole career, all thanks to stealing this crap for ya. What happened to your show's money?"

"Other needs that ain't involved with this. Budget and paycheck cuts."

"Heh, sure. Whatever. I can't keep doin' this, Chef. You're like a brother to me, but the other day I heard some nurses talking about the missing security footage. _And_ medicine."

"So they put two and two together," he shrugged, "not our problem, so long as you weren't sloppy about it, and _paid for it,_ like we agreed—you get it, I pay for it."

"But this time I _didn't_ have any cash, and I need it! . . . Okay, okay. It's the holidays, I get it. You have the day after tomorrow to bring me the cash, or I'll squeal. Anonymously. _Your name_." He stood up, and grimaced. "Why couldn't you have just had the surgery in the first place?"

"The show, James. I had to do the show, and then I found out about the disease afterwards. I talked to you, we worked things out. I'm broke now, so I guess it doesn't matter."

"You better have my money _real_ soon," He left, leaving behind the cash for the check. "No pun!" Finally getting a good look at his face, Chris realized the man was one of the paramedics from the show.

The host nodded slowly, and went through the crowd of people to Yakko—who was drooling at the poor waitress. "Hey, is this for real? You mentioned before this wasn't scripted."

"Of course it's real," He turned to him, taking a long sip of soda through a purple silly straw. "How else would we have been able to show you your past self _and_ get away with mixing up the ghost sketches?"

"So how are you doing it?"

"Hey, that's for us to know and you to worry about. And by the expression on your face, I take the effect of the skit's kicked in?" He grinned and arched a brow.

"Just for Chef!" He protested, "And whatever disease he has…"

"It attacked his liver," he took a sip of the soda, "so now he needs those meds to keep the parasite at bay until there's enough cash for the surgery procedure."

"Parasite?! So . . . that bet I lost—paid for the surgery?"

"No, it paid for the next set of medicine he needs by tomorrow."

He sighed, taking a seat. "He got it from the show, didn't he?"

"Yep."

"How?"

"You made him and a few other interns test out a food-eating challenge—with _live bugs_. Don't know what serving he got the parasites from, but the maggots looked pretty suspicious."

"Mm." He dug into his pocket, and took out the IOU card from before. Looking at it, he asked, "Is there anybody else I've hurt . . . _really_ badly, like Chef?"

"Puh, you don't even know the half of it, kid! Why do you think we've rushed through this thing to get to me? Not like mine isn't the best, but you know what I'm talking about. A great example is Mike and his personalities—he should've been put on medication _before_ the whole Mal deal got bad. And yet he _still_ sent you a Christmas card, because you're the reason why he and Zoey met. Or Sierra and Cody—she's been stalking him since their first meeting. Poor guy can't go anywhere without seeing her, poor girl doesn't quite get why exactly he doesn't want her. Lose-lose situation for the both of em.'"

"An—wait, how is that my fault?"

"You saw how she acted in her audition tapes—"

"Which was why she didn't get on the first couple of times—"

"—But hired her anyway. See, I get that you're a sadist. You make money off of making up sick games for your show—like me and the sibs. But at least keep it under control, ya know? Or else you'll have Courtney and Al in your future. Otherwise, you really don't have too many friends at all in the present, and you'll have even less in the soon-to-be future."

After a few moments of silence, Chris handed him the IOU. "Cause we're in a bar and I don't wanna be drunk in front of the readers, get me a Coke or something?"

"Sure thing." To put his actions into the most breathtaking words possible online: he did so. "You know that that's the only serious thing that's gonna come out of my mouth for the rest of the night, right?"

He nodded, "Oh yeah. So no more grim stuff?"

He shrugged. "Depends on that choice we all know you're contemplating over Chef right now: save a few bucks or save his life. That'll be the first choice leading to your future and fate right there, buddy."

"A few bucks is a hel—uh," he remembered Manny, from the beginning of the story, "I mean, a _heck_ of a lot different than the two hundred fifty I owe him."

He jumped, "TWO HUNDRED—Uh. Well, officially the guy charges your friend extra since he has to steal it illegally, adding up to a total of _three hundred_."

"Just for medication?! Why didn't he just go to a doctor and get a prescription?!"

"Hey, I don't know _everything_ that goes on around here, ask him yourself! It costs so much because it's a whole month's supply, and not cheap in the first place." A clock stroke one in the morning then. Yakko got up, stretching. "Well, I've gotta go. Remember: it's okay to be sadistic. Just let up slightly, that Eva girl's teamed up with Jo and they're using your picture on punching bags!"

"Yeah, they have anger issues with everybody, but I get the moral of the story. Just let me outta this thing already!"

"We already are."

Within a blink, Chris was back in his bedroom in the mansion.

* * *

**Sideshow sat in a red plush chair, next to a fire place. She wore a red velvet dress, hair in a bun, and had reading glasses on. Rita was in her lap, Runt was at her feet. She was sipping some milk from a wine glass, and spoke in an odd accent that can only be described as a 'P-psychologist's.' "So, ve have sheen all three ghosts and Blaineley, and now Chris is apparently back at his house. What vill happen next?"**

**She put down the glass on a table, and the camera panned out to reveal Slappy sitting in another chair just like that. She glared at the screen, arms crossed. **

**Sideshow rolled her eyes, dropping the accent. "Oh c'mon, get over it and say the line! We had to include **_**mostly**_** Total Drama characters, it was all about **_**Chris**_**, not Plotz!"**

"**Blah-blah-blah, tune in next week to find out what happens—you gave away **_**my**_** part ah' the story for **_**that**_** bimbo?! Her acting ain't no better than the poor saps they got workin' at Disney! What's **_**she**_** got that's bettah' than me?"**

"**For one thing," Said Blaineley-person showed up, causing even Rita to look up – Runt was still fast asleep. "I'm not a hundred-forty year-old **_**ex**_**-cartoon character! Sorry to barge in Sideshow, I forgot my make-up bag."**

**She nodded, "Meant to have that sent out to you, but it's been a busy night. Please, continue."**

**They then immediately got into each other's faces as Sideshow took a sip of her milk.**

"**Hey, I'm not young anymore, but at least I know what comedy is!"**

"**Oh, get real! TV nowadays isn't about comedy, it's about the ratings! And what gets ratings faster than good, raw drama? Action? Besides, what does old fashioned Toon-comedy **_**get**_** actors anymore? Just look at Bugs Bunny, for example. Since **_**Loony Toons**_**, he's been in movies and cameos that aren't worth **_**Celebrity Manhunt's**_** time of the day!" She dodged a falling anvil after that last remark. "And the same goes for **_**your**_** career!" She dodged a falling piano and almost got hit in the face by pie.**

"_**Hey! **_**You better watch your mouth O'Hallery, it's the only part of your body the doctors haven't mangled yet!"**

"**OH!" **

**Just as she swung back a clenched fist, Slappy held out a bundle of lit dynamite flowers. "Merry Christmas, **_**Mildred!**_**"**

**By that time, everyone in the room had run out except for her. "What—"**

**It exploded, and the camera shut off.**


	5. After Party

Within a blink, Chris was back in his bedroom in the mansion. 'Phobia Factor' had just finished. He ran outside the front door, past some dog and a gray cat in an alley (*the cat was singing something about humans . . . was that normal?) and pointed to a random person walking on the street. "Hey, you! What day is it?"

**The man was wearing thick glasses, and wore a white coat. He yelled in a German accent, "Ja' crazy person, it iz one zo'clock in ja morning on Christmas Day! Go back to sleep and quit yelling, you vill wake ze whole neighborhood!"

"Right, sorry." He held up his hands, and went back inside.

_I still have time to make things right!_

The letters from the contestants all had return addresses—a run to the store and a few phone calls later, he had Christmas letters for all of those who sent him cards—including Courtney, Noah, and Alejandro. And an apology letter to Cody, inviting him to a Sierra-free lunch whenever he wasn't busy.

Inside Chef's was a check large enough for the medical procedure.

And to top it off, he sent a check and a letter, describing how incredible a worker David was, to the intern's family for the funeral profits that had nearly broke them nearly four years ago.

All of these letters ready to be sent out, he went to bed at two-twenty in the morning in his Total Drama outfit, and the alarm clock at his bedside woke him up at eleven.

What? You're wondering why all of the contestants don't get one? We're on a budget and spent almost half of it on Yakko's musical number! The rest went into the rest of the story and into the next part of the chapter.

* * *

By request of the author of this story and Chris, the following people are to attend a Christmas dinner that starts at five in the evening at the Warner's Water Tower: Dawn, Zoey, Mike (on medication for his personalities, and doing much better), Owen, Izzy, Gwen, Chef, Cody, the Warners, Courtney, Alejandro, Noah, and Blaineley.

None of them could make it due to family matters.

So, he got the check out to Chef and we rescheduled it for January. This time, everybody was able to attend . . . . . It all started at three in the afternoon this time, so everybody could catch up with everybody.

* * *

SideshowCellophane26, Sideshow (preferably, at this point,) for short, was sitting in the corner with Chef and Blaineley. "So you haven't told him yet?"

Chef answered, "And never will."

"Tell him what?" Blaineley took a sip of her drink.

"That I don't have no freaking parasites!"

She almost choked, laughing, and coughed some. "Aw, dude!"

Sideshow giggled, "It was a part of the original script Yakko actually followed! We had no idea Chris would really take it seriously! I mean, yeah, they time-traveled a bit. But he should've recognized it from the skit!"

"And he mocks _me_ for not reading through the whole play!"

"How dare he think I'm broke! I'm in a great career right now, no matter _what_ the damn producers do to my paycheck!"

They all laughed again, going into a different topic.

Meanwhile, everyone was talking and having a good time. Wakko and Owen were emptying the seemingly never-ending food table. Between snacks the Warner showed Izzy his gag-bag, taking out a pair of scissors for her to play with.

"YAY! Now I can open that barbershop I never wanted! Or give Owen a haircut!" She leaned over said teen threateningly.

"Uh," He stopped eating mid-chew, and swallowed. "I think that, uh . . . No, my hair's perfect the way it is!" He covered his head as she got closer.

"What about a small trim then?" They started to play a game of chase around the table.

Wakko chewed on a cupcake, watching in mock horror. "Oh, the humanity!" Another bite. "Ooh, poor Owen! I'll finish the corn for ya." After finishing the sweet, he took Izzy by the shoulders—stopping her mid-step—and set her on a psychologist couch. "Wrong! You—"

"Right!"

He frowned. "Wrong."

"The turdunkin."

He broke out into a grin. "Go."

"Cart."

"Blue."

"Cheese!"

He scooped her into his arms, both suddenly in marriage outfits. "Marry me!"

They started to walk away, "I do! . . . . Wait, can I marry Owen too?"

He stopped short, looking at Owen (his hands on his knees and gasping), back at her, and gave the camera a look of pure horror. "If I could, I'd play the drum soundtrack! _Goodnight, everybody!_"

They continued to walk away as Chef, Blaineley, and Sideshow applauded and threw rice over the lovely married trio.

Meanwhile, Dot, Gwen, and Courtney had struck up a conversation over boys, and _why_ exactly the two girls had fallen for Duncan, the unibrowed Juvie kid. And then Yakko had become "special friends" with Alejandro (not that he didn't deserve it . . .) and Noah.

They were playing Pin-the-Tail—Noah was the donkey, and Al merely sat back and laughed his head off.

"Noah, buddy, if you're the donkey you have to stay still!" Yakko, with a tie over his forehead, was chasing the poor teen all over the room with a pin.

"If you pin the tail on me, you can't cheat and peek through your blindfold!" Noah dodged Izzy and her scissors.

"But I need to so I can know where you are in the room!"

Coming out of the changing room and being pushed to the side by Yakko, Mike inhaled deeply—and Chester came out. He shook his fist at them, "Show some respect for yer' elders, young man!"

Zoey put her hand on his shoulder, and Mike came back. They continued on to the hot tub.

Noah screamed, "Alejandro, _help me!"_

"Why? We have no alliance here," He finally stopped laughing when Dot jumped into his arms, giving him a huge kiss on the lips.

"HELLO-O-O-O NURSE! How'd I miss _YOU_ standing here?!"

He dropped her, "Um…I have never seen eyes turn into hearts before, such as yours are doing now…"

Along with the heart eyes, her tongue rolled onto the floor.

He smirked, and rolled it back inside and shut her jaw closed. "It is quite fascinating meeting you and your brothers. We must meet sometime again and discuss your life being a Toon."

Yakko stopped, elbowing him in the ribs. "Careful there, Al. You've obviously never _met_ a Toon before, have you?"

"Not like you guys, no."

"Yeah? Okay. Good luck then!" He caught up to Noah.

"Wait, what do you mean by good lu—OOMPH!"

Dot had just jumped into his arms, knocking him to the ground with a gigantic smooch.

Meanwhile, Dawn, Zoey, and Mike were talking, hanging out in the indoor hot tub in the corner.

Dawn was saying, "It is so good to see you have them under control now. I see even Vito has not come out, and you have taken off your shirt! Your aura is a lovely shade of dark-sky blue."

"Yeah," he laughed, "though it is sorta lonely in there. I mean, I can still hear and see everyone, except for Mal, but they just can't come out without me concentrating on the personality I _wanna_ bring out."

"Really? They _never_ come out without you calling them . . . like a dog?" She frowned.

He chuckled nervously, rubbing the back of his neck. "Well, sometimes, if I'm in a certain situation, one of em' can slip out without my calling. Like a few minutes ago, with Chester. O-or the other day, Manitoba came out when Zoey was freaking over losing one of her crystals."

Zoey giggled, "It was my special moonstone. Mike came back after Manitoba found it, but that was one of the few times I ever appreciated a personality pushing himself out like that. It was so sweet!"

"Hey," Wakko tapped Mike's shoulder, his usual grin gone. "You said one of your personalities can help find stuff?"

"Yeah, Manitoba Smith. Why, what didja lose?"

He broke down crying into his shoulder, "MY MARBLES! You've gotta help me find my marbles!"

Dawn patted his shoulder. "It is alright, young Toon."

"Uh…" Mike awkwardly patted his shoulder too, "You-your _marbles?_"

"Sure," Wakko stood back up, all traces of sadness gone; his grin was back in place and tongue hanging out. "Some of em' were blue, a couple were green, purple. They were in a brown bag. Help me find em?'"

"Um…You mean this literally, right? Like, they _aren't_ just inside your mind?"

Zoey nudged him, laughing. "It's cool, go ahead!"

"Alright, if you say so. Lemme dry up and change, then we can start looking."

Elsewhere, Chris and Cody were talking about how stalkers weren't that different from the paparazzi. You just lay low for a while, play dead, and they'll get bored and move on eventually.

"—But it's been a couple years now," Cody was saying, "you'd think she'd move on."

"I had that problem with a girl back in my early career," He nodded. "Eventually, my agent just got a bunch of security guards to stay with me twenty-four-seven. It sucked, but it kept her away."

"Jeez, how long did that have to last?"

"Just a month. She tried to beat up one of them, they put her in the hospital. You wanna know the beauty of it?"

"What?"

"_That_ was Sierra's mother."

" . . . Oh." He took a sip of some soda, falling silent.

"My suggestion would be to either talk to her, hire some goons to watch over you, or, ah," He grinned and pointed to Yakko, who was now special friends with Courtney. "_That'll_ do nicely. If they agree, I mean."

"It's worth a shot! Later, maybe," He chuckled. "I wanna see what they'll do when Courtney tells him she's a…"

"I AM A CERTIFIED C.I.T MEMBER!" She started screaming, Yakko on her back. "I _ORDER_ YOU TO GET OFF OF ME THIS INSTANT!"

"Who do you think you are, telling me what to do like that? No wonder you couldn't keep the unibrowed Juvie kid. _Or_ the dirt-farm boy."

"OH! You went THERE!" She started waving her hands around now, yelling while most everybody else laughed. Eventually, she stopped and stood still, catching her breath. "Because my rank is above yours, I demand you get off of me."

"Oh, you _demand_ me to? Well then," He hopped off, standing in front of her with his hands behind his back, and bowed. "Yes, Your Majesty."

"Ugh, I'm not a queen!"

"Queen? Didn't know we had one." He looked around.

"We don't, we live in a dictatorship! Working classes, all equals!"

"Then why do you think you're any better than the rest of us, drama queen?"

"_I'm not a queen!"_

He grinned, taking out a nail file. "Good, because I didn't vote for you!"

"You don't _vote_ for queens!"

"Then how'd you become one?"

"I'M NOT A QUEEN! They either inherit the throne or marry into it!"

He dropped the filer, leaning towards her face, "Then why do you say we're all supposed to be equals and turn around and boss people around and yell at them?"

Her mouth opened and closed, eye twitching. Everyone's chuckles rung in the room now.

"See, if I were to go around and boast that I'm a C.I.T member and can tell others what to do and not to do, then the _real_ guys would come in and put me back in my place _real_ quick. And then there are others who are never caught, never get what's coming to them…that's usually where the sibs and I come in." He grinned mischievously.

She gasped, putting her hands on hips. "Are you _threatening_ me with a sequel to this story?!"

He took out the filer again. "No, I'm mocking you." This earned another wave of laughter. "Besides, all of the places we've filmed at have a restraining order against the whole crew here, so those places are outta the question. But if it's a lesson you're looking for, I'm sure Izzy and her scissors would love to have a few minutes alone with you."

Said girl held up the scissors, grinning like a lunatic.

He elbowed Courtney and whispered, "Personally, I like her methods!"

* * *

Mike had changed into his blue shirt and jeans, and came out of the changing rooms to find Wakko waiting for him. "Okay, ready," He smiled, and put on Manitoba's hat.

Then, taking in a deep breath, the explorer came out. "Ah'right, mate. Let's look for ya' marbles."

"Faboo," He breathed.

"Now, where's the last ya saw em?'" He dove under a nearby bench, and hopped out the other end.

He pointed one hand to the ceiling, the other to his right.

Manitoba deadpanned. "Ya ain' helpin,' mate."

He moved one hand to the floor, the other to his left.

"This some sortah' trick ah' something?"

"No," At the same time, he nodded his head yes.

He raised an eyebrow. "When you said ya lost your marbles, you meant that figuratively, didn't ya?"

"How would you have heard from inside there?" He knocked on the explorer's head.

"Hey, quit that! We have a portal to the outside world, like a window ah' somethin' we can see an' hear out of."

"I know, I've seen the season when that Mal guy took over."

"Okay then, Wile Dingo. Just tell me where ya' marbles were last seen an' I'll handle it from there."

He pointed one hand straight up in the air, and the other inside his ear.

"_That's it!_ Mike, yer' comin' back out ta' deal with this lune!"

He took off the hat and inhaled deeply, and Mike came back. "Whoa, what? What just happened? The personalities have never let me come back so easily like that!" He walked, away, shaking his head, and said to himself, "What's wrong with you guys?"

"Hey, wait!" Wakko ran after him, "I still haven't found my marbles!"

"_I doubt they ever existed!_"

* * *

It was at six when dinner was officially served.

It was six-thirty when we finally got Izzy calm enough to get off the Warners' train and stop trying to stab people with the scissors.

After that, everyone raised drinking glasses to the camera, with Chris at the head of the table. "To all of those readers out there who have supported us," the grin went down slightly, "with or without reviews…" Sideshow elbowed him, and the smile came back up. "We thank you all, and wish you a merry Christmas…even though the holidays have passed _here_."

"So Happy Valentine's Day, everyone!" Yakko jumped onto Blaineley, Wakko and Dot following lead by hopping into Gwen and Alejandro's laps.

Izzy looked at all three of them and jumped onto Owen.

"Sideshow," Blaineley growled, "get this _off_ of me…"

She shrugged. "Sorry, hun. Their contracts expired on New Years. Whatever control we sort of had is gone when the story ends."

"Not even then…" Yakko grinned slyly.

"My point," Chris interrupted, "is to have a happy holiday, wherever you are and from."

"And respect Mother Nature!" Dawn added.

"Don't let stalkers stick around!" . . . I think we all know who said this.

"Don't flirt with a Toon unless you know what you're dealing with…"

"Ain't that the truth," Dot crossed her arms, grinning at the show's most deceitful player.

Wakko crossed his own, glaring at Izzy. "Or give somebody something from your gag-bag. Then you'll _never_ get it back."

"But they're so _shiny_, it's driving me crazy just fighting the urge to re-enact '_Sweeney Todd_!'"

"Nah-ah-ah!" The host glared at the teens, "Don't you guys even _start!_"

"Yeah!" Sideshow stood up, "I'll have to write in all of your names, and readers skip that crap! Chris, say your freaking lines so I can end this story once and for all." She sat back down.

"Right—now then. To all of you readers who have supported this story: thanks . . . To every other person and Warner in this room—and Blaineley—"

She growled at him.

"It was good working with you people. Enjoy the holidays, and tune into our shows anytime. Until then, I'm Chris Mclean, from The. Total. Drama." The camera backed up dramatically as it did at the end of each episode, with each word he said.

"SERIES!" Everyone from the show said, and the screen now showed everyone holding up their drinks.

"_And_ _Animaniacs_!" The Warners sung.

"Goodnight everybody!" Everybody this time said, and the theme to "Deck the Halls" played as Yakko pulled down the picture to show the end credits. When the song finished, it moved onto the theme songs to the two shows.

_And then . . . _

The water tower door opened, revealing Larry and his/her offspring. In the background, inside the water tower, Chris screamed, "WE DIDN'T _**DO**_ ANYTHING! IT WAS _**ASEXUAL**_ REPRODTUCTION!"

Chef popped up now, scoffing. "You're still one sick bastard, man."

"LANGUAGE!" All three Warners jumped on him, shoving a stick of soap inside his mouth. They all fell back, out of the shot.

The screen turned black, and . . . . . . . aw, crud.

Izzy cut open a slot from the inky blackness, grinning. "SCISSORS!" The hole shut again.

THE OFFICIAL END OF THIS STORY SHALL COMMENCE IN THREE. TWO. ONE.

. . . . Actually, we have some deleted scenes in the next chapter (our special features, if you will), so stay tuned!

* * *

**I wrote this BEFORE the season finale of Total Drama All Stars, so please don't make any comments about - *ahem* - what changed in the last episode (I won't spoil anything, but it involved Mike). It would annoy us here very much, and you wouldn't want to be a special friend of the Warners and Izzy, now would you? **

**I do actually have a chapter I had planned on posting, but didn't finish on the time that I'm keeping. It was an in-between chapter, as Blaineley and Slappy blew up our equipment. So stay with us for a wee bit longer for the short-story filler that was never posted!**

***- "The cat was singing something about humans?" If you don't get that, then watch an episode of **_**Animaniacs **_**with Rita and Runt.**

****- You got me. A special cameo by Dr. Otto Scratchansniff.**


	6. Our Not-So Long-Lost Chapter

**Sorry about the long wait. It took me a bit longer to finish this chapter (as it is THIRTY PAGES LONG ON MY MYCROSOFT WORD DOCUMENT) than I had hoped, but Yakko will explain in a few paragraphs.**

***Sigh* Okay readers, listen up! For the following chapter you'll need to know about some characters: most importantly, Mike. As Yakko told you all, he has multiple personalities (at the time of writing this…). They include: Chester (the old man who comes out whenever Mike is frustrated), Svetlana (the Russian gymnast, who made debuts in the last few chapters), Vito (a **_**Jersey Shore**_**-like tough guy who flirts a lot), Manitoba Smith (Australian cocky adventurer), and Mal (evil; referred to as the Malevolent One by other personalities). It is revealed in Total Drama All-Stars that there is a mirror that can be looked out of to see what's going on outside of Mike's mind.**

**I really do like his character, though—all of them (get it? Huh?)!**

**. . . That's actually about all of it. OOH! Do you know the bathroom confessional in Total Drama? IT'S BACK, BABY! :D Also: I shall list the stories used at the end of each segment. Read on!**

* * *

Yakko's face filled the screen, grinning widely and waving. "Hiya, folks! We have a special chapter in store right on ahead for you all! Take it as a thanks from us here at the studio for your time and patience during the writing and filming of this story. As our _special_ _friend_," he wiggled his eyebrows, "Sideshow put it, it's a special feature chapter. Well, she lied. It's more of a not-so-long-lost chapter we drew up when Blaineley and Slappy blew up our stuff and we thought it would take a while to get back on our feet. When it turned out we could just move to a different studio, we left this chapter alone and unfinished . . . Until now! But never mind that, read on to see just how much time we really had on our hands to do this—trust me, it was surprisingly a lot considering it was the holidays."

* * *

"Is it on? Okay," Zoey stood in front of the camera, between Dot and Mike, smiling. "Due to technical difficulties—"

"The blame," Dot said, "being cast entirely on Blaineley, as she was the one who picked a fight with Slappy and got our studio blown up in the first place."

"Yeah…" Zoey clasped her hands together, "Anyway, an extra chapter has been added to you, the readers out there, for your own amusement. Also so we could end the official story either around Christmas or soon after, as this is updated about every week or so."

Mike added, "We'll be doing any Christmas sketches there are to parody, all wrapped up in this little chapter! Whether or not my," as he spoke, Izzy crept up behind all of them with a pair of scissors in her hand, "ah, personalities come out. But they really are under control now, it's just that—HEY!"

Izzy had cut open his shirt, and it fell at his feet.

Immediately, Vito came out. "Hey yo, what's up y'all?" He looked down at Dot, jumping. "Whoa, wait a sec here. I've seen you guys through Mike's mirror in his mind, I know what you guys—"

"HELLO-O-O NURSE!" She jumped into his arms, giving him a huge kiss.

* * *

**THE FIRST CONFESSIONAL EVER IN THIS STORY**

Mike sat in the shack that served as a bathroom on Island Wawanakwa, laughing hysterically. He wiped a tear from his eye, grinning at the screen. "Vito finally got what he had coming! Karma for almost ruining any shot I had with Zoey by flirting with Ann Maria, man!"

*STATIC*

Dot now took his place, smiling at the camera. "More confessionals, soon to come!"

**END**

* * *

He dropped her, backing away slowly with hands raised. "Hey, listen kiddo, I ain't sellin' this candy anymore—candy bein' me. The main personality could hold me inside for _good_ for messin' up what he has goin' on in his relationships. You have a problem, talk ta' Mike's girl right there."

Dot turned around, frowning at Zoey, and pouted. "Why are all of the cute guys always taken?"

She smiled and shrugged. "I really just got lucky, meeting him. Like we were made for each other, you know? Fate."

Vito stood straight, "Wait, we talkin' bout' Mike or me?"

"Mike, duh!" Zoey rolled her eyes, but smiled at him. "But I like you guys too."

Dot arched a brow, grinning. "Oh-ho-ho, I see…"

She drew back, gasping. "Not that way!"

* * *

**CONFESSIONAL**

She shook her head frantically, "Never that way! No! Ugh, gross! _No!_"

*STATIC*

Chester blew a kiss to the camera.

*STATIC*

Manitoba grinned and chuckled some, sitting with his arms crossed and a brow arched.

*STATIC*

Ooh. Uh-oh. _Mal_ sat with his hands on his knees, leaning forward to the camera, winked, and chuckled darkly.

*STATIC*

Svetlana filed her nails and shrugged. "Svetlana vill not acknowledge this joke and let ze show go on." She frowned, sitting up and looking around. "Vait—how did zey get ze _Canadian_ show's bathroom on _American_ set?"

**END**

* * *

Dot grinned wickedly. "Uh-huh. Sure. Anyway, for all of you readers out there, stay tuned for even more ridiculous parodies, coming up next right after these messages!" The scene faded.

* * *

Sideshow stood on a stage, overlooking almost everyone involved with this story ( . . . at least, everyone you will see in this following chapter). "We want you guys to be in another chapter—all of you."

Murmurs and groans from the crowd.

"Just one more, parodying some of the more popular Christmas tales and poems, or whatever there is. As of right now, my editors are finishing up copied scripts of these stories."

"And who are your editors?" Dawn asked.

She blinked. "None of your concern."

"But—"

"Anytime now, your scripts will be brought to you—"

"We didn't sign up for more chapters!" Owen exclaimed, "I was only supposed to be seen in the very last chapter! Ooh, spoiler alert, sorry. But-but there were only supposed to be four chapters we were even mentioned in!"

"Correct. This isn't a _real_ part of the story, it's a filler until we can get our destroyed studio fixed up for the last chapter. Also, I just really wanted to do this with you guys. So, everybody read over your lines tonight so we can practice soon!"

The screen panned out, revealing that that was a recording on a computer. "Hello," Yakko Warner sat in a desk chair, wearing a white lab coat. "We have been not so pleased to discover that our director has given us an extra chapter to appear in, going through a loophole to get us during the holidays. Has that ever happened to you? Or, even worse, are _you_ a director that has done this to characters that don't even belong to him or her? Or completely messed up a sketch that wasn't yours in the first place? Well then, lemme tell ya: there's hope yet! Right at PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE GET OFF OUR BACKS FOUNDATION!"

"Here," Chef said, "we bring both directors _and_ poor, mistreated actors back to their senses through calming, serene treatment—how is this a Christmas parody again?"

An intern, the mutated Josh from _Revenge of the Island_, is lying on a sofa as Chef takes notes. "And," he sniffled, "worst of all, Chris really _did_ send me to a circus!"

Chef rolled his eyes, a vein in his forehead throbbing.

"I managed to escape, but not without—"

"THAT'S ENOUGH OUTTA YOU!" He pulled a rope, and an anvil came crashing on Josh's mutated body.

"Here," Alejandro chirped, in another room with Courtney, Sideshow and Chris, "we take care of the directors too."

Both the directors were tied to chairs, struggling. Sideshow wiggled her fingers as Alejandro approached her with a mallet. "But I gave you guys power and money! Isn't that what you want? WAIT, NO!"

He bonked her on the head.

"I'm not a director!" Chris protested. "I'm not even supposed to be in this chapter, it's between the main story lines! NOT THE FACE!"

Al nodded to Courtney, and she whacked him on the head with a mallet. "_God_ that felt good!" She grinned, and looked at the camera. "Remember: call before it's too late!"

"There is always hope!" Dot exclaimed.

"There's always help…in some fashion." Chef grinned wickedly, holding a mallet.

"There is…" Dawn trailed.

* * *

**CONFESSIONAL**

Owen stared blankly at the camera. "Why are confessionals allowed during commercial breaks?"

*STATIC*

**END **

* * *

Everyone was in the shot now, victims—er, _patients_ gone, and shouted, "The PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE GET OFF OUR BACKS FOUNDATION!"

Izzy held up a list, "Warning: the PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE GET OFF OUR BACKS FOUNDATION may not be best suited for children six and under and people above the age of seven. We are not responsible for any form of illnesses or physical or mental abuse after your signing the P.P.P.G.O.O.B.F contracts. Other symptoms might include anything starting with the letters A to Z. Don't ask a doctor if the PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE GET OFF OUR BACKS FOUNDATION is the right place for you. Just call now!"

* * *

Owen was the proud owner of a cooking show—that is, a _failing_ one. His recipes were horrible, and he had been eating ingredients before each episode aired, making it seem even cheaper. So, after a long day and another failed episode, he stayed on set after hours to finish a new recipe.

Unfortunately, the producers for the show didn't have enough money to hire actual bakers for these recipes—the only reason why Owen was shown at all was because of his popularity on _Total Drama_.

"Ugh!" He groaned, looking at the pencil in his hands, "You'd think I would be better at this!"

"Owen?" Izzy came in, "C'mon! _Celebrity Manhunt_ comes on in forty minutes and I don't wanna miss it! Slappy and I made a point to send a simply _lovely_ gift to Blaineley," She laughed manically, the gift (only known to Slappy, Izzy Chris and Sideshow) was a ticking time-bomb that, when opened, would blow up comically on cue.

"Okay, just let me—wait, what?" He looked up and frowned. "Didn't _Celebrity Manhunt_ fire her?"

"They hired her back after the," She used air quotes, "'_success_' and '_ratings_' she got on _Total Drama World Tour_."

"But I thought Blaineley died from that volcano during the last episode of _World Tour_."

A cricket chirped in the background. Although it took place off-screen, several interns were attempting to hold said host back as the Warners and everyone else present stood back. You could still hear her screaming, "WHY THE HELL DOES EVERYBODY SAY THAT I DIED?! I'M HERE **NOW** AREN'T I?!"

* * *

**CONFESSIONAL**

As she screamed, Blaineley was either punching or kicking some part of the poor shack, pulling at her hair, or simply making rude gestures to the camera that the story censors have edited out. "***BLEEP*** THOSE STUPID ***BLEEP***ING PRODUCERS OF THAT PILE OF ***BLEEP***ING ***BLEEP*** ***BLEEP*** THEY CALL A ***BLEEP***ING SHOW WILL ***BLEEP***ING HEAR FROM MY ***BLEEP***ING LAWYERS! ***BLE-E-E-E-E-E-E-E-EP*** THIS ***BLEEP!*** ***BLE-E-E-E-E-E-EP*** TOTAL ***BLEEP***ING DRAMA! I'M GONNA ***BLE-E-E-E**-**P*** THEIR ***BLEEP***ING ***BLEEP*** UP THEIR ***BLE-E-E-E-E-E-***"

*STATIC AS THE PEOPLE RUNNING THE CENSORS HAVE HEART ATTACKS*

Chris is shown in the confessional, smiling calmly and speaking in a soothing voice . "We would like to sincerely apologize to any of you readers—or Total Drama producers and Slappy—that have been offended by Blaineley's sailor mouth and rude actions. The rest of the story should not have any more rude, censored language like that again, unless somebody pisses off Courtney. Or somebody else with a foul tongue. Please enjoy the rest of our Christmas Special."

*STATIC*

Slappy and Courtney sat together, the latter gaping at the camera.

"Kiddo, ya got flies goin' in there. Shut that hole, say whatcha need ta' say—ah jeez, didn't mean tah' reference that horrible song." Slappy shut the teenager's jaw with a finger and turned back to the camera, "If any ah' ya readers have heard that song before, I deeply pity ya' little brain and choice of radio station."

Finally, Courtney blinked. "Chris…You can shove that load of sh—(_part where our censor runners get off their lazy butts and get back to work_)***BLEEP*** up your ***BLEEP**!*"

Slappy jumped, having to unfortunately hear the UNcensored version, and slapped a hand across Courtney's mouth. "Hey hey, whoa whoa whoa honey! THAT was uncalled for!" She shoved a bar of soap into her mouth, "Just so ya don't mess up your debut in that skit you're in, potty mouth! They got those poor interns in there workin' their BUTTS off tah' keep this story at T-rated, the least you can do is wait until the cameras ain't on you tah' use that foul tongue!"

*STATIC*

**END**

* * *

Izzy cleared her throat. "Um, anyway, c'mon! Let's go back to my place, we have pizza!"

"Ooh, pizza!" He left the recipe where it laid: inside his dressing room, on the table in front of the mirror.

When he came back in the (late) morning, he found in place of the sheet of paper a page of a book instead—what looked like a cookbook page, actually. He picked this page up, scanning over it.

"Ooh! Chocolate mousse! Heck, a beautiful and _delicious_ recipe for chocolate mousse! Hm…" He looked around, shrugged, and pocketed this new treasure.

And so, Owen used this recipe in his next show, and it was a success! Why, they even had enough money to hire an assistant baker (Chef—who also wrote out half the recipes, which were actually pretty decent) and bought plenty of ingredients for each show.

After a month or so of success, there was one night when Chef was sick and Owen and Izzy were left on their own.

"Oh-ho-ho man, what're we gonna do?!" Owen put his head in his hands, "There's only one more day until the next show!"

"Stay calm—hey, you know that Christmas story about the naked elves that help the shoemaker?"

"Uh…yeah…?"

"Well, leave it out so they'll fix it!"

He gave her a blank stare.

She rolled her eyes, "C'mon, Big O! It happened last time, remember?"

"Bu-but they left a sheet from a cookbook! And we don't even know if it WAS elves—uh," he buckled under the increasing anger and impatience appearing on her face (there was no telling what an angry Izzy would do…). "Well . . . Fine. *Whateves. But we need to—"

"Sit in the security room and watch them come! Let's go!"

"But I don't wanna…" He whined, though she had already grabbed his hands and was dragging him out. And so they sat in that tiny, uncomfortable room for the rest of the night, and nearly into the early morning.

* * *

**CONFESSIONAL**

Owen drank out of a coffee mug, bags under his red eyes, barely keeping his head up. "The only reason why I even agreed to this was because she threatened to take away my spatula. When that didn't work, she threatened to cut my ***BLE-E-E-E-E-EP*** off AND take away my spatula." He took a good swig of the steaming drink. "As if that _spatula_ was what I cared about after hearing what she'd do to me! CUT OFF MY ***BLEEP***, MAN! CUT OFF MY ***BLEEP***ING ***BLEEP***!"

*STATIC*

**END**

* * *

However, at midnight precisely, their waiting finally paid off.

Two Warners bounded in through the main entrance, wearing nothing but—wait, what?

Yakko and Wakko stopped, and gave the cameras crossed looks. Yakko said, "We draw the line at nude elves. Either accept these dirty, shabby clothes or we skip the skit!"

They went on to fix the recipe, and this time left a whole cookbook along with it when they were finished.

Izzy shook Owen, squealing. "They're little…uh…things! Monkey-kids!"

"They looked like puppy children to me," Owen still stared at the table where the list sat, unmoving. "Maybe cats?"

"We should leave them something!"

"What?"

"Well, their clothes were out of style and torn, like, everywhere. Why don't we buy them new clothes?" She shook him again. "C'mon, let's go shopping! We have enough money! Because of them! C'mon!"

So, they did that the very next morning indeed. After the show they left the clothing out on the counter in place of a horrible recipe, and hid in the security room to watch. At midnight precisely, the two elves…er, Warners came in and saw the clothes.

Yakko held up the article of clothing with a neutral look on his face. "Oh, joy. I get the exact same pair of pants I have on now."

Wakko elbowed him, "But newer!"

"Uh-huh. Well, since they gave us the clothes, I guess that means we're outta here!"

"Freedom!"

They both ran out the doors, and were "never" seen again. Owen and Izzy's show was cut off the air as soon as the cookbook and Chef ran out of recipes, but not before they were quite well-off on money and were able to live comfortably throughout their lives.

As far as you know.

**This has been a parody of 'The Shoemaker.' If you did not figure that out, then, well, we obviously didn't do a very good job, now did we?**

BLOOPERS:

"Live," Said Blaineley, "from Celebrity Manhunt! We've got the latest scoop on the crossover of _Total Drama_ and _Animaniacs!_ Yakko, Wakko and Dot playing the roles of the three ghosts of Christmas past, present, a yet to come! And hey—it can't be that bad if _**I**_ starred in it!"

"Right Blaineley," Josh, her co-anchor, said. "And how was it on set? What were they all like? Were there any catfights?"

"Oh," she fake-laughed, "No catfights, Josh. We had our ups and downs, sure. But altogether, I think everyone got along just fine."

"Oh-ho-ho, is that so?" He arched a brow, grinning. "Because there's a very special gift to you from some of the actors and actresses from the crossover story, giving a warm thanks to you, for, ah," he read off the letter, "for all that you did on set." He smiled at the camera, placing the large green and red present on their table.

Blaineley gasped, grinning, and opened the lid.

It exploded in both hosts' faces.

Somewhere in the world, Izzy, Chris, Slappy, Sideshow and the Warners were laughing hysterically.

Slappy exclaimed, "Now _that's_ comedy!"

* * *

He had never been late before.

Zoey looked at the clock again, sighing. She felt the empty space on her head, where the flower hairpiece—her trademark—had once been. Her eyes grazed over Mike's present now, a small, lumpy bundle wrapped in tissue paper, and a cane with a red bow attached on top.

They were not broke. Poor, but not broke.

_. . . . . . From offstage, Sideshow opened and closed her mouth, held up a finger in protest, and dropped it, sighing. "The . . . the…the—THE IRONY!"_

_Chef shook his head. "You DID write the script before the season finale. It ain't ENTIRELY your fault."_

_SPOILER ALERT: "But I could've changed the script AFTER they won the million!"_

"_But you didn't, and THIS is what viewers are reading right now. Get over it and watch, woman!"_

Ignoring that pointless information right there: to keep with the budget, she had sold her trademark hairpiece (the flower) that was as much a part of her as Mike was—but it was well worth it.

* * *

**CONFESSIONAL**

"Really, Christmas is supposed to be about being around the ones you love—so why does everyone panic to get presents for each other? Hm . . ." She shrugged. "Maybe because the other person would have gotten you something and you'd have gotten him nothing? _That's_ a cruel guilt-trap right there."

*****STATIC*****

**END**

* * *

Finally, she heard the door open and close. Mike came in with a square package wrapped in red fabric and a pink ribbon tying it together, his face weathered and worn. He, too, had to give up several very important pieces of himself: the most notable being hairspray, so his hair was in his face (but not like Mal's).

He stopped, looking at her. "Where's your hairpiece?"

"I . . . I sold it. What happened to your hair? Is it raining outside?"

"No, just windy. I sold my hairspray…" Both looked at each other before they smiled each, and Mike sat next to her on the couch. "Merry Christmas." He put the gift into her lap.

* * *

**CONFESSIONAL**

"See?" Zoey exclaimed, "Just like I said! Guilt, that's what it is!"

*****STATIC*****

**END**

* * *

She smiled back, giving him the presents. "Merry Christmas."

"You wanna go first?" They both laughed awkwardly, having said that simultaneously.

"Let's open them at the same time," he said, eying the cane present and chuckling. "I think I have a good idea of what these are going to turn into."

She laughed. "I didn't have much to wrap with, so . . ."

* * *

**CONFESSIONAL**

"Oh, COME ON!" Chris was shown, his arms outstretched. "It's bad enough one of them won _All Stars_, but now they've gotten jobs acting almost better than me? No freakin' way, I'm getting another main part in the next story Sideshow writes!"

"Oh _really?_" She stuck her head in, holding a box full of personal items from the filming of this story (with a Yakko Warner doll and toilet plunger sticking out the top...), "How does a _murder_ victim sound?"

He stared at the camera and gulped.

*****STATIC*****

**END**

* * *

Zoey opened hers and gasped, lifting a hand to her mouth. What was inside this gift was not one, but six flower hairpieces. Oh, and how they were beautiful! She picked up the most beautiful one, a multi-shaded and layered pink flower with a fake diamond in the center, her hand still covering her mouth.

He opened his present—rather, _presents_—with awe. Zoey had gotten one present per personality, including one for Mike: the cane, of course, for Chester. Manitoba got a new fedora, Vito a Megladon shark tooth necklace (not like his lucky one—but a very cool find!), and Svetlana a gym pass. And for Mike?

Why, hairspray of course!

* * *

**CONFESSIONAL**

"Okay," Mike said, "I sold my hairspray THIS AFTERNOON to some guy to afford her hairpieces. How'd she know?!"

*STATIC*

"I sold my flower," Zoey exclaimed, "just today to this weird guy with a beard to afford the things for him and his personalities. How'd he know?"

*STATIC*

Noah blinked, and took off the beard and mask. "They told me I had to do something besides say two lines to get paid. Even though my part was cut. _So what's up with GWEN'S paycheck, ya idiots?! SHE didn't have to say any lines!_"

**END**

* * *

They looked at each other, awestruck and frowning just slightly.

Zoey said, "Okay, I got those all from a guy who offered to give them to me for my flower—_all of them together_. I guess I should've known something was up with that…"

"Huh. You know, the same thing happened with my hairspray and this bearded weirdo…You know? He knew I had multiple personalities, and pointed out I could control them now!"

"Well, you _were_ on national television and—er, I guess it doesn't matter now." She grinned, picking up the fedora. "Lemme see something."

"What?"

She put the hat on Mike, and nothing happened. After waiting and few seconds, she gasped and grinned. "You DO have complete control!"

Both embraced, and kissed.

However, it was when Mike was distracted that Manitoba came out.

He opened his eyes, blinking. "Huh?" He pulled away, "What the—?"

She gasped eyes going to the camera and back to the adventurer, "Manitoba?! What are you doing?"

"I didn't—ah," He laughed nervously, both staring at the camera and backing away slowly. "Hoo boy, is it hot in here? Heh-heh…"

From offstage, Chris started yelling, "At least make it look SCRIPTED you idiots! That was the last bit of film and memory we had left for this shot!"

Quickly, Manitoba grabbed Zoey's shoulder. "This _never_ happened, ya hear me beauty? I ain't the one tah' mess with other people's girls, _especially_ Mike's!"

She nodded vigorously, "Agreed, yeah. Never."

The camera ran out of film as both ran off.

**. . . Well, it was SUPPOSED to be "The Gift of the Magi," but I guess we messed THAT one up too. How about we stick with something simple for next time?**

BLOOPERS:

"Let's open them at the same time," he said, eying the cane present and chuckling. "I think I have a good idea of what these are going to turn in—" He gasped, eyes bulging out of his head.

Zoey jumped back when Chester came out, holding up the cane. "What the—hey!" He smiled, actually noticing the present in his hands. "Thanks fer' the cane!"

"Oh-ho-ho…" Zoey smiled nervously, "kay…"

"FOR THE LOVE OF—" Chris came into the scene, "Can you PLEASE tell Mike to come back out so we can get this ONE shot in?! The camera's almost outta battery and electricity ain't free around here!"

* * *

The set was dark, so dark that not even any shadows were cast anywhere. Yep. Complete and total dark—_dammit, what the hell was that?!_ "Who put this chair here? Why do we even _need_ a chair here? Where's center stage?!"

"Hello?"

"Where do I go again?"

"Whose face am I touching?"

"Mine!"

"Cody?" Sierra screeched, having been the one who touched his face.

"Sierra, I thought you were kicked outta here!"

* * *

**CONFESSIONAL**

Cody was seen to be huddling in a corner, his knees tucked up to his chest and shivering. His eyes darted all around, and finally at the camera. "Sh-sh-she-he-he's HERE?! H-how come the se-security officers didn't c-c-c-CATCH her?!"

*STATIC*

Sierra sat with her hands in her lap, smiling. "Oh, the security team was really just sad. All I had to do was let the bat swing in my hands, and those guys were out _cold!"_

*STATIC*

**END**

* * *

Everybody scrambled around until a light was turned on, and then found their proper places.

A voice came in from offstage (an intern), "Are you guys good?"

"Yeah!" Everybody answered.

"Just turn the lights off," Sideshow said, "and do the skit like we practiced. But, ah…Start from the twelfth, for the time the commercial break and confessionals took—why do we even have commercials?"

"Kay-kay," The lights went off again, and the theme to "Twelve Days of Christmas" played.

The chorus (everybody) sang, "_The twelfth thing at Christmas I wish they'd give to me…_"

A light turned on, revealing Noah reading a book. He lazily looked up at the camera and sang, "_Everyone leave me be_."

Another beam shone on Courtney, wearing a black dress. "_My own scholarship!_"

Okay, to save a lot of reading: each time a person sung, a light shone on their well-dressed bodies. It was now Gwen's turn: "_A good set of friends!_"

Alejandro, "_My million dollars_ . . . and Heather . . . Is that too much? The money _and_ the awesome girl, all in the same—"

Zoey sang, "_A kiss from Mike_."

Mike, "_Complete_ _control of my personalities_…" He sighed.

* * *

**CONFESSIONAL**

Alejandro sat on the toilet, leering at the camera with his arms crossed. "Yeah, Heather and I started dating—but it hasn't been all that pretty. I mean, is it too much to ask of her to keep the manicures _under_ two-hundred-fifty dollars per freaking visit? God, it's like she doesn't even realize we lost the game! _Money_ _doesn't grow on trees, woman!_"

He then began to rant in Spanish—after Google Translate, the censor peeps just decided to blot out the whole twenty minutes it took for him to finish.

*STATIC*

**END**

* * *

Izzy had her arm around Wakko, and sang, "_A sharp pair of scissors!_" They winked.

In the very center, Chris, all dressed in black, shoved aside Sideshow and sang, "_Five golden Me's!_"

Everyone under the spotlights gave him dirty looks.

"What? It's traditional. You know, five golden statues of me? Better than Sideshow's stupid _'Just five more reviews!'_ Now _that_ is killing a perfectly good Christmas song!"

They all shrugged, moving on with the song. Owen came up: "_An infinite buffet of food!_"

Dawn had a bunny on her shoulder, "_Protect Mother Nature!_"

Cody appeared, shivering and looking around. "Where's Sierra? _On the second day of Christmas I wish they'd give to me: two body guards!_"

The last light turned on, revealing Sierra in place of Chef. She sang, "_And a kiss from my love, Cody!_"

"_Security!_" Sideshow shouted, "_Get her OUTTA here already! C'mon, that was the last sketch we had to NOT mess things up!_"

**Not a parody of anything, really. Just us singing...**

BLOOPERS:

. . . Wait, was THAT a blooper? Where's that shot we took without Sierra? Or being lost in the dark? Or without Chris—you know what, WHO GAVE ME THIS REEL IN THE FIRST PLACE?! SOMEBODY'S GETTING FIRED FOR THIS!

* * *

Zoey, Mike, Yakko and Dot appeared on screen.

Yakko grinned, "So there you have it!"

"That annoying special feature episode nobody wanted to see or read," Dot said...

"But you pulled through anyway!" Mike finished, "Good for you guys! Heh-heh…"

"We apologize," Zoey said, "for anything that might have offended you throughout the chapters of this story."

"Or," Dot added, "any skits you wanted to see but didn't—cough-'It's A Wonderful Life'-cough."

Mike frowned, "There really wasn't anyone we COULD have done that to. Chris is too much of an egomaniac to consider what the world would be like without him, Noah refused to do anything else, Owen and Izzy had their own thing, everyone's roles were filled."

She shrugged. "We could've found _somebody_ to play the role."

"Hey," Yakko said, placing an arm around both of them. "There's always next time!"

Mike and Zoey shrieked at the camera, "NEXT TIME?!"

* * *

***- 'Whateves,' along with 'for reals?' have been used throughout the show for a while. It is NOT a typo. **

"**I'll say again: I wrote this BEFORE the finale. No comments on that, because I'm NOT changing the story line. I changed the part about Alejandro and Heather dating to at least make that part up, but yeah. We're done. PEACE!"**

**Chris came up, handing Sideshow a contract and whispering something into her ear.**

**She sneered. "Aw, crud. Okay, whatever, but I'm out. See ya' readers next time! The cast of the two shows would like to do one more big blow-out before separating forever more. Later."**

* * *

**CONFESSIONAL**

Noah was the first to speak, having the littlest to contribute to the rest of the story (making his paycheck not-so-slightly smaller than the others). "Well, it wasn't cool to be chased around, messed with, or play a pawn in any games of the Warners'—but it really isn't any different than competing on _Total Drama_, so I guess it really wasn't that bad. I sorta enjoyed this experience, and at least I get a good sized paycheck, right?"

*STATIC*

"I thoroughly enjoyed this game of sorts," Alejandro said. "It made me realize how much I don't know about Toons . . . And how much I don't WANT to know about Toons…Anyway, a happy-ish ending. Heather and I are doing much better since the filming of this chapter. We've even talked about moving in together." He wiggled his eyebrows.

*STATIC*

Gwen had her hands on hips, frowning. "How come I'm even IN this story? I got, like, two lines!" She threw out her arms, "LESS than two lines! And they were CUT! And they're STILL paying me more than Noah?"

She looked around, eyes now wide.

"Not that I'm complaining. N-nevermind, forget I even said it! Just glad to be here!"

*STATIC*

Vito turned out to have signed a contract—as well as the rest of the personalities. So, here he is:

"Hey yo-sup, peeps! I'm signin' outta this joint with what sanity I have left, ya know what I'm sayin?' I hope I'm never put with any more ah' them Toons again—that Slappy's one tough cookie, but Dot's enough for this guy." He shuddered.

*STATIC*

Courtney, unfortunately, _did_ have to be in this. Here's what she had to say:

"Despite me being special friends with the Warners and being threatened with a sequel to this story, I bear no ill will towards any of them like a dignified person. After all, I got a good seat of power, made a few friends, and learned a valuable lesson about Toons: don't ever say a word in their presence to upset them." She sighed, but smiled at the camera. "Lesson learned the hard way, I suppose. Although that comment about Duncan and Scott was pretty low…" She sniffed. "Unibrowed Juvie kid and dirt-farm boy? Ha! I'd like to see their reactions to meeting the Warners any day and time! Hey, maybe I CAN get Sideshow to write a sequel to this story!"

"NOT ON YOUR LIFE, SWEETHEART!" Sideshow screamed from off-camera.

*STATIC*

Blaineley was filing her nails, one side of her body hidden to the camera, and held them out to see. Still not looking at the screen, she said, "First I'm going to get my paycheck. Then I'm going to get a neck brace for my poor bruised neck - I had to use a LOT of make-up to hide those bruises, you know. I ran out after covering the fifteenth one, so I'll need to get more. Then I'm getting a new agent. And then," she turned to the camera, revealing a black bruise on her left eye and a Band-Aid on her cheek, "THEN I'm going to get a RESTRAINING ORDER against that ***BLEEP***ing Slappy Squirrel! And probably find that Walter Wolf's number . . . Huh," She zoned out, gazing off-screen. "Hmmm . . . That might be just what I need to get her . . ." She broke out into a wicked grin.

*STATIC*

Chester (do the personalities REALLY count . . ? Well, I guess so) was shown to be holding a cup of prune juice in one hand, and making a fist in the other. "I got up to use the bathroom just to be RECORDED?! THAT'S IT! I'm going to the janitor's closet to do my business—or are there cameras in THERE too?!"

*STATIC*

Sierra sat with poor Cody, hugging him so hard his eyes were popping out. "Oh, Cody! This story really made me realize how much I LOVE you!"

"Can't…" He rasped, "BREATHE!"

"NO! BAD stalker, BAD!" Slappy opened the door and squirted the stalker with a, well, water squirter, making her hiss, drop Cody, and run out the other door.

"Oh God, freedom!" He screeched, "I'm getting body guards REAL soon!"

He gasped and gulped in air, precious air, as Slappy laughed. "Now THAT'S comedy! What? I'M in this story, it had ta' be said sooner or later! No copyright infringement intended."

*STATIC*

Manitoba held a whip in his hands, a cocky grin on his face. "There's been so much ta' take in—that wile dingo, what's his name again? Wakko, I believe. He and his siblings are just a few sandwiches short ah' a picnic, ain't they now? And then, ah, me an' Zoey. Heh." His smile faltered, and he chuckled nervously, rubbing the back of his neck. "Ah, that'll need some explainin' on my part, I suppose. And then what that janitor's gonna do when he goes into that closet. Poor kookaburra." He shook his head sadly.

*STATIC*

Dawn sat with Runt by her side and Rita on her lap. The cat looked up warily at the camera, and purred, "Whaddya know? Not _all_ humans are bad after all."

"She's a very pretty and nice lady!" Runt happily barked, "Definitely, definitely a very pretty and nice lady!"

The nature lover smiled and laughed. "Oh, it has been wonderful working with you all! Thanks to the money they have given me, I am donating it all to helping save Mother Nature and her beauties!"

Rita snapped her head up, "Jeez kid, _alla'_ that dough?"

"Every single penny." She nodded.

Silently Rita comically held up a sign she got out of nowhere that that a picture of a screw on the top row, a plus sign in the middle, and a baseball on the bottom row (get it yet? Screw plus ball?). She made the hand motion of moving her finger in a circle as Runt laughed and Dawn rolled her eyes, quite aware of the way Toons acted.

"Mother Nature, nor anybody else, could prepare anyone for the taunting of a Toon. Did you know," Dawn leaned forward to the cameras and whispered, "their auras keep changing colors to form _letters?_ When I tried to read Yakko Warner's, his morphed into 'Stay outta my aura!' It…It's unnatural!"

"Kid, ya learn ta' live with it. You think talkin' cats and dogs are natural?"

"Talking animals are only unnatural to those _unacquainted_ with Mother Nature. Or animal whisperers - did you know Scott was a beetle whisperer?"

Rita looked at the camera again, shaking her head.

*STATIC*

Chef had a cocky smile on, sitting with his hands behind his head and feet up. "Ya' know what? Chris NEVER caught on to that part ah' the script. That pretty boy really DID send me a check for five hundred buckaroos—and as far as I'm concerned, he WON'T find out about that script!"

He chuckled, closing his eyes for a few seconds before realizing Chris and Sideshow were the ones who edited the story.

"WAIT!"

*STATIC. THE CAMERA IS KNOCKED AROUND SOME. A CLOSE-UIP OF A CURSING CHEF.*

"Aw, ***BLEEP***! How do ya OPEN this ***BLEEP***ING thing?!"

He got up and ran outside, all the while calling for interns to "STOP THE CONFESSIONAL EDITING! STOP THE CONFESSIONAL EDITING!"

*STATIC*

Svetlana grinned, "Svetlana has had a wonderful time here in ze studio! Ve have laughed, ve have cried (especially ze poor interns!), and, most importantly:" her eyes seemed to especially shine at this part, "Svetlana got her OWN moment in chapter! TWO chapters now!"

*STATIC*

Owen and Izzy sat together, Izzy on the Big O's lap. "Like, omigosh! Me an' the Big O have had the best time, like, EVER!"

He nodded and began counting off on his fingers, "Besides the Warners jumping on my belly, Slappy blowing up a HUGE part of our studio, Slappy sticking dynamite down mine and Noah's pants, Slappy sticking dynamite down Chris and Alejandro's pants for being "boastful pretty boys," Wakko giving Izzy scissors, and Izzy using those scissors until I had to hide them, ah-heh-heh-heh, it-it was a nice time…" He chuckled nervously again, cowering in the hard gaze coming from his girlfriend.

"Anyway," she turned back to the camera, smiling. "Happy Holidays peeps! Or Valentine's Day, whatever sinks your battleship!"

*STATIC*

Zoey and Mike sat side by side, holding hands.

Zoey said, "It was, ah, _different_ than what we're used to…" Her smiled faded some, lost in thought. "_Very_ different…And zany…to the max…" Her eyes got wide, "_There's baloney in their sacks!_"

"Well," he said, "_They're Animani—"_

"_TOTALLY insaney!_"

"_PINKY AND THE BRAINY!_" Both sung.

Eyes wide, both looked at each other, nervously laughed a little, and continued.

"We definitely appreciate Total Drama now," Mike laughed. "I mean, there have been moments just like a second ago when we'd all burst into a random song, Wakko and Owen have started racing to get to the buffet table, Dot won't stop flirting with Alejandro, Yakko and Noah could go against each other all day long, and Slappy has as much dynamite as Chris does!"

"Well, the difference being that Chris is _limited_ in his supply…"

"True," He nodded. "But at least _she_ doesn't blow us up for the purpose of ratings."

"HA!" From outside, said squirrel began cackling quite loudly.

*STATIC*

Mal was there alone, smirking. "Thanks to the season finale of All Stars, everyone thinks I have died. Oh, the fun I will have messing with them…" He began laughing in a Sideshow Bob-like fashion. If you do not know who _that_ character is, then you obviously don't know a single thing about this author, do you?

Yakko stuck his head through the door, and pointed to him. "Hey, weren't you destroyed in the last episode of _All-Stars?_ I mean, why were the personalities in this story anyway? How'd they come back? Heck, forget about them, how'd YOU come back?"

Mal stared at the camera, a quizzical look on his face for once. "Uh . . ."

"And if everyone thinks you were destroyed, wouldn't it make more sense to KEEP this information from the cameras and entire viewing world?"

" . . . Um . . . Huh." He scratched the back of his neck as Dot jumped into his arms.

"HELLO-O-O-O MALEVOLENT ONE!" She kissed him.

"Bah! Who are you?" He tried to pull her arms off from around his neck to no avail. "_What_—what _are_ you?"

"Whaddya mean 'who are you?!' WHAT am I?! THAT'S it! WE are THROUGH!" She scooted off his lap and next to him, arms crossed and nose high in the air. "And I'm keeping the house! You can go live with your mother for all I care!"

"_What_ the _heck _are you—"

"AND I'm keeping the ring," She held up her finger to show off a gigantic diamond ring on her finger, "the furniture," she held up a blue chair, and tossed it over her shoulder and out of sight, "the dog," Runt was held up and tossed away.

"Wha—WHAT? How did you—"

"The cat," Dot continued, holding up Rita and placing her on Mal's lap, "AND the p-psychiatrist!" She held up dear old Scratchy by the back of his shirt.

He was crossing his arms. "Hello. I do not vant to be here and I am not getting paid to do zis."

He grabbed Rita as he was carried out by Dot, leaving a gaping Malevolent One in the confessional. His eye drifted back to the screen. "Wha-_what_ was _that?!"_

*STATIC*

Yakko, Wakko, and Dot all sat together in the order I just stated from left to right.

Yakko grinned, waving to the camera. "Well gang, it's been a fun run!"

"I must admit," Dot added, "it hasn't been pretty."

"But it had to be done," He nodded. "For the sake of Chris and our paychecks, anyway. Ka-CHING!" His eyes turned into money signs.

"Izzy stole my scissors," Wakko complained, his usual grin gone and tongue hanging out. "The worst part is that she isn't even using them anymore!"

Yakko draped an arm around him, "Cheer up, sib! Soon, we'll get our paychecks, get you a _new_ pair ah' scissors, kick the camera crew and everybody else _outta_ our water tower, and be ready to mess with Plotz and Scratchy for Valentine's!"

"Or terrorize that Sierra chick!" Dot exclaimed, and gave a pointed look to the camera. "Seriously. Sideshow could write up tons of material for that messed up stalker! Ooh! Or we could replace Blaineley's facial cream with garlic sauce, mess with that Mal cutie, mess with that HUNK Alejandro..."

Yakko stuck a finger inside his mouth, making a face.

This made the younger Warner cheer up, and gave his siblings a weak grin. "I guess you're right. After all," he smiled, "Izzy and Owen make a _cute_ couple. And I'm sure they'll be back on Total Drama eventually."

All of the grinned wickedly and stated, "_And we'll be watching the pain with pleasure!_"

*STATIC*

Chris, the final person, crossed his arms and glared at the camera. "Oh, it is ON, Chef! I want my money back, you filthy, no-good lying piece of ***BLEEP***! That's the lowest anyone has ever sunk man, lying to get a couple hundred bucks! OH, I am SO going to get you for this! And Blaineley too! And I bet Slappy will be MORE than willing to help me! UGH!"

*STATIC*

**END**

***Cue the **_**Total Drama**_** and **_**Animaniacs**_** music***

**No animals were harmed in the making of this story. This does not include humans or directors or hosts. Or interns. All copyrights reserved, blah-blah-blah-blah-blah, blah-blah-blah-blah-blah. If it comes down to it, I MIGHT make a sequel to this story. But if that happens, then I'll have new materials to work with, I'll have inspiration, I'll hire everyone back to do it (no stupid re-casting! That's stupid!), and I'll probably be blackmailed into doing the whole thing.**

***Pans out to show Sideshow sitting on a chair, under which is more dynamite than she feels comfortable around, with Slappy, Mal, and Chris standing on either side of her with matches.***

**"Oh, honey," Slappy grinned, "You'll make a sequel alright."**

**Chris said, "And it'll start and be written under OUR terms."**

**"When," Mal threateningly lit his match, holding just _inches_ away from the fuse, "we say so. Got that, Sideshow?"**

**She nodded.**

**"Good," He blew out the match. "And what kind of name is _Sideshow_, anyway?"**

**"Partly after Sideshow Bob, partly after _Chicago_ when my favorite song was _Mr. Cellophane_. I had wanted to change it, but the name caught on before I ever did."**

**"Who's Sideshow Bob?"**

**She glared at him; Slappy and Chris gave "_Really?"_ looks.**

**"What? I was in Mike's mind half the play, I didn't care about the author, much less gather any information on you. Give me a-"**

**Zoey's voice came in from off-screen, "Mike? Mike! Where are you? The Warners are about to kick us out and we need help getting Izzy out of the closet!"**

**All three pairs of eyes turned to Mal as he inhaled, turning into Mike. "Ah, uh, coming!" He ran off.**

**"Should we tell them?" Slappy put the match under her hat.**

**Sideshow shook her head. ****Chris said, "Nah, let's wait and see how long it takes them."**

**"Twenty bucks says," the author said, "they find out when they read this load of garbage when it's posted."**

**"Five on either Zoey or a friend finding out before him."**

**"Ten," Slappy bet, "on him goin' into that mind-realm place an' goin' through the _All-Stars_ "I'm-Trapped-In-My-Own-Mind" ordeal again before anybody does."**

**"We'll keep an eye out," Chris said, "I'm going to get my stuff before the Warners or Izzy get to it."**

**They all began walking off. Slappy laughed, "Oh? You mean your hair products an' brushes, beauty queen?"**

**"HEY! It isn't easy looking this hot twenty-four-seven, you know!"**

**"It's easy for me," Sideshow walked past them, out of the camera's sight.**


End file.
